


Working It Out

by ashitanoyuki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life, Alternate Universe - Office, Beta Sam, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, F/F, F/M, Gender Roles, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Castiel, Omega Verse, Sexism, Sexist Dean, Sexual Harassment, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashitanoyuki/pseuds/ashitanoyuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt at spnkink meme!</p><p>Dean Winchester isn't a bad guy. Hell, if you ask him, he's a pretty damn good guy, working his way through corporate America to put his brother Sam, a beta, through college. So maybe he thinks that alphas should be alphas, betas should be betas, omegas should be omegas, none of this pansy "omegas in the workforce" and "stay-at-home alphas" crap. Nature made the sexes different for a reason, and who is Dean to say any different?</p><p>Of course Castiel Milton seems determined to throw Dean's worldview into a tailspin. That infuriating, "progressive" omega with his bright blue eyes and his dark, sexy hair, and his smell like ambrosia itself...</p><p>Maybe, just maybe, Cas is right. Maybe Dean does need to re-evaluate his worldview...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Intern

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have a lot of other stories I need to be working on, but this one won't leave me alone. Enjoy! Rating will probably go up.
> 
> Written for this prompt at spnkink meme: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/85012.html?thread=32089108#t32089108
> 
> Updates here will probably come slowly compared to updates on livejournal, so if you want to read ahead, it's 100% do-able.

“Coffee, two sugars please, darling.”

The new intern raised his eyebrows, glancing at Dean with cool blue eyes. Pretty—not that interns were fair game, Dean reminded himself. Not even omega interns. Hell, it was pretty cool that an omega could hack it in a place as competitive as Sandover, even just as a pretty temp. Bosses were probably looking for some eye candy when they hired this one, Dean thought.

The omega had said something. “What’s that, hun?” Dean asked, smiling at the pretty young thing.

“I asked you to not call me darling,” the omega replied, his voice much lower than Dean had expected. Gravelly, almost. Like an Alpha’s. “Or hun, for that matter.”

Dean blinked, slightly taken aback. “Sure,” he said after a short pause.

“Thank you.” The omega smiled politely at him and turned, heading over to the coffee machine in the corner. Dean shook his head, amused, and turned back to the copy machine, waiting for the copies of his report to finish printing out. Adler wanted them on his desk before lunch, and Dean was determined to finish early. He needed to make a good impression on his boss if he wanted that promotion, after all, and if he was going to take care of Sammy, he needed the raise that would come with the prestige.

Sammy had been getting uptight and wound up, recently. Something about being able to put himself through college just fine, thank you very much, no help needed from Dean. That was all very good, but a beta like Sam shouldn’t be expected to work _and_ go through college. One of the two was enough for a beta’s sensibilities. It wasn’t like he was an alpha, born with the drive and determination to provide, to shoulder through day after day of nonstop work just to get ahead in the world. Privately, Dean looked forward to the day that Sam met the alpha of his dreams and realized that he shouldn’t work anyways, but his brother had always tended to fall in with various progressive crowds. Dean just hoped that he would eventually come to his senses.

“Your coffee, Mr. Winchester.” Dean blinked, drawn from his thoughts, and accepted the Styrofoam cup from the intern. Wow, he really was cute. Unruly dark hair, and lips that could make an alpha cry with desire. If he’d come to Sandover to find an alpha, he was in luck. Someone would snap that tasty thing right up in a heartbeat, given the opportunity.

“Thanks, sweetie,” Dean replied with a wink. The intern took a deep breath and offered him a cold stare before walking off, heading back to his cubicle. Wow, touchy. Dean shook his head and retrieved the last of his papers before making his way back to his desk, coffee in hand. If he could get through proofreading these papers by ten and have them on Adler’s desk, he might be able to finish the rest of his work by three, and could cut out early to spend some time with Sammy. It was summer break after all—how often did he get to see his kid brother for more than a few days at a time?

Whoever had proofread the documents before sending them Dean’s way, they’d done a great job. Dean didn’t recognize the email—cj.milton@sandover.net—but he fired off a thank-you missive before depositing them in Adler’s mailbox. 9:45. Not bad for two hours work. Cheerfully, Dean made his way back to his desk to go through the rest of his reports before the 1:00 meeting. Oh, yes. He was heading home early today.

Dean had to fight the urge to zone out through the duration of the meeting. Blah, blah stocks, blah, blah figures are up, blah, blah Sandover is poised to enter a long-standing partnership with Roman industries. Dean could have told anyone in the room that based off of the preliminary reports he’d been sent this morning. Bored, his eyes wandered about the room. Interestingly enough, it seemed that whoever was in charge of the new intern had seen fit to bring him along. From the looks of things, he was working under Pamela’s wing. Dean resisted the urge to send a wink the omega’s way. Yeah, it would only be encouragement, but with the number of sexual harassment seminars Sandover had held recently, better to not risk it. The last thing Dean needed was to lose his job.

Finally, the meeting ended, and Dean was home free. He’d finished his work for the day before the meeting had started, and was itching to get home and relax a little. Sammy was probably bored out of his skull, home from summer break with nothing to do. And there was nothing like a round of ass-kicking at Mario Kart to relieve the stress of the work-day, anyways.

Eager to get home, Dean stopped by his desk only briefly to log out of the computer and retrieve his suit jacket from the back of his chair. A swift ride down the elevator, and he was free, sun glinting off his baby’s flawless bumpers from across the parking lot.

Dean nearly collided with the new intern in his haste to get to the car. “Hey!” he barked, drawing back sharply. “You looking where you’re going?”

The omega blinked, stepping back to gaze at him with uncomfortably bright eyes. “My apologies,” he said, that gravelly voice sending shivers down Dean’s spine. “I was not, in fact, looking where I was going.”

“Hey, no problem,” Dean said, offering the guy a friendly smile. You couldn’t get too mad at omegas, after all. They tended to be spacey at the best of times, and after working for so many hours in an actual office, the poor kid probably needed some time to zone out in the bath with a magazine, or whatever omegas did to relax. “You just keep an eye out on the road, all right?” He made a mental note to be extra careful getting out of the parking lot. Everyone knew omegas weren’t the best drivers.

“Of course,” the intern said, raising an eyebrow. Damn. If that wasn’t just the cutest thing… Dean swallowed hard, cutting off that thought before it could turn into something dangerous. Driving while distracted by a hard-on was never fun.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” Dean said after a short pause, smiling at the omega. He had to admit, he wouldn’t complain to have something so nice to look at around the office, even if the kid almost had bowled him over. With a friendly wave, he made his way back to the car, sighing with relief as he settled into leather seats and sun-drenched warmth. Led Zepplin poured from his speakers when he turned on the ignition—one of the few remnants of his somewhat rebellious teenage years that he still allowed himself—and for the first time since he’d arrived at work for the day, Dean really felt like himself.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t much for corporate scrabbling and office work. Sammy had to get through college somehow, and it was up to Dean to make that possible.

The ride home was just long enough to be relaxing, not long enough to make Dean impatient. It was a relief to shuck his shiny brown shoes and stiff red tie at the door, to hang up his jacket and unbutton the top of his shirt. “Sammy!” Dean called, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he walked. “I’m back!”

Sam poked his head out of the living room, index finger pressed to his lips. Belatedly, Dean realized his brother was on the phone; he smiled, miming zipping his lips. “Yeah, Jess, sounds great. I’ll definitely see if I can come,” Sam said, a faint flush appearing on his cheeks as his lips turned up in a grin. Oh, that was definitely something for Dean to pry into. No secrets among brothers. “Uh-huh. Yeah. I’d love to. Bye.”

Dean snickered as he stepped into the room, folding his arms across his chest. “Got a crush, Sammy?” he teased, flopping down into his favorite leather armchair, which groaned and squeaked in protest.

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, the flush in his cheeks reddening further. “It’s my friend, Jess. She wants to know if I can come out for a few days to go to a concert in July.”

“Yeah?” July was far enough out that it wouldn’t be too big a deal, but Dean wasn’t sure how much he liked the idea of Sammy going to a concert with some stranger he’d never met. Especially if it meant he’d be gone for more than a day. “Who is this Jess chick, exactly?”

Sam frowned, glancing up at Dean. “A friend of mine from school.”

Like Dean couldn’t have figured that out himself. “Yeah, okay. Alpha? Beta? Omega?”

“She’s a beta,” Sam said, the barest tinges of frustration coloring his voice.

A beta. Dean relaxed, relieved. Going to meet up with a beta friend was fine. An alpha, and he’d have had to put his foot down. “Sure, Sammy,” he said, smiling at his brother. “You gonna need to fly out there? I can spring for a ticket and drive you to the airport.” Yeah, he didn’t have mounds of cash to spare, but Sandover paid its employees pretty well, and he had a decent chunk of change in his savings account. He could pay for Sam to go to a concert.

“About that,” Sam said, shifting uncomfortably. “I can pay for it myself. I sort of got a job working nights at the Gas-N-Sip.”

Dean froze, his hands falling slack by his sides. “You did what?” he asked, staring at his brother.

“I got a summer job,” Sam said, glancing over at him. “You know, just a couple times a week, night shift. Nothing too much.”

Dean groaned, slumping forward and burying his head in his hands. “Sammy,” he said, grimacing. “You don’t need to do that. I can give you an allowance, if you want some pocket change this summer—”

“That’s not what this is,” Sam said, cutting him off. “I need to start building my resume. I’ve never had a job, and if I want to get hired after college, I need _something._ It’s just part time, and it’s not exactly high stress. It gives me something to do this summer, and it lets me get experience in the work force.”

Dean shook his head. Sammy, working at a gas station? At night? When all the unsavory characters came out of the woodwork, just looking for someone to prey upon? The idea of his puppy-eyed, floppy haired beta brother working at some creepy gas station after dark gave him chills. “Sammy, come on. If you’re looking for things to do, there’s plenty of other stuff. And why do you need to build a resume anyways?”

Sam shot him an annoyed look. “Maybe so I can get a job coming out of college?” he said tersely. “Come on, Dean, it’s just common sense. I can’t mooch off you forever.”

It’s not mooching, Dean wanted to say. Not for a beta. Sam shouldn’t be worrying about jobs, and resumes, and all that crap. That was for alphas. But he knew what Sam’s reaction would be if he said that, and he really didn’t want to start a fight with his brother. “How are you even going to get to your job?” he asked, deciding that logic and reason was a better way to talk his brother out of this.

“I’ll walk,” Sam said, shrugging. “It’s only a mile up the road. I’ll be fine.”

“At night?” Dean demanded. “Sammy, you know what kind of people are out there. It’s not safe for you to walk alone.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Dean, seriously,” he said. “I know self-defense. If you’d feel better about it, I’ll carry a knife or pepper spray, but having a job is important to me, all right?”

It didn’t make Dean feel much better, but he knew his brother well enough to know a pig-headed idea when he heard one. “Fine,” Dean muttered, glaring at Sam. “But you call me if you need a ride, okay? Or take the car if you have to.” God, Sammy driving his car—his brother had better feel grateful. “And the second it gets to be too much, you quit, got it?” Maybe Sammy would quit soon. Betas weren’t cut out for the kind of work schedules that alphas were, after all.

“Got it,” Sam said coolly. “Now can we do something else? Anything else?”

Yeah, that sounded good. Something to take Dean’s mind off the idea that his brother was going to be out, alone, at night, surrounded by predatory alphas. “Sure thing, Sammy,” he said, forcing a grin. “How about Mario Kart? I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Sam said, grabbing a Wii remote and tossing it to Dean. “Loser’s got laundry for a week.”

“Get ready to spend a week washing my dirty underwear, Sammy,” Dean teased, catching the remote. This was fine. He could do this. He could definitely do this.

0o0o0o0o0

“Mr. Winchester?” Dean didn’t even have to look up to recognize his boss’s smug, self-satisfied voice. “Can I see you in my office for a minute?”

That was never promising. But Dean knew better than to make a scene, even when Zachariah cut him off in the middle of finishing off an important report. “Of course,” he said, locking his computer and following his boss into his office. Whatever it was, it had better be important. It had to be, Dean reminded himself. Adler never deigned to talk to his employees unless it was important.

Dean followed Adler into the office and sat in the indicated chair, trying to seem cool and collected. He hadn’t done anything that would warrant disciplinary measures, he was sure of that. And it was too soon to hear about that promotion, so no point in getting his hopes up. Dean clasped his hands in his lap, and hoped that he didn’t look too nervous. Nerves weren’t professional.

“So, Dean.” Adler smiled at him, the expression odd on his fleshy face. “I see you’ve been getting a lot done! Your reports are flawless, and the individual work you’ve been doing on your own has been coming out pretty good, if I may say so myself. You’re doing so well so quickly, looks like your time card says you keep leaving early. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got so little on your plate, you’ve been getting bored at work!”

Bored at work was one thing, but Dean wouldn’t say that he didn’t have enough work to keep him occupied. But arguing with his boss seemed fruitless, so instead, Dean offered him his best, false smile. “I like to be efficient,” he said, as cheerfully as he could manage.

“And that’s good. We like that in our employees. Still, clocking at 3:00 at least twice a week, well, it makes management wonder if you could be doing more!” Adler smiled brightly, or at least attempted to. Dean shuddered inwardly at the contrast of upturned lips and dead eyes. “We’d like to assign you an intern, if that’s all right. I know, it seems like something that would make your life easier, but between showing them the ropes and checking their work, it’s actually a big responsibility. Now, before you say anything,” Adler said, raising a hand to cut Dean off before he could speak, “we aren’t just asking this to ask this. We’ve got a spare intern lying around. He was working with Pamela Barnes, but she called in for unexpected long-term sick leave last night, and well, we’re in a bit of a crisis. You can see why we need to place the new guy with someone trusted and respected.” Adler leaned forward, flashing his teeth at Dean. “Between you and me, mentoring an intern shows a lot of initiative, Dean. Could look really good when management starts considering candidates for promotions.”

Promotions. So he _was_ in the pool of consideration. Dean swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m perfectly willing to take on an intern,” he said, flashing a bright, false smile at his boss.

“Good man!” Zachariah sat back, grinning toothily. “The new kid shows a lot of initiative. Castiel Milton, is his name. He’s got a bright future at Sandover if he continues with us, especially bright for an omega.”

An omega? Did Adler mean…

Oh no. _That_ intern.

Still, Dean had just agreed to take him on. “Sounds fine to me,” Dean said, ignoring the pit that curled in his stomach. Great. Working with some hapless, ambitionless omega, spending long hours at the office correcting his work and fixing all the mistakes that he made in some dreamy haze? Dean could say goodbye to any spare free time that he had. Hell, he’d probably be spending his weekends in the office fixing all the errors that the kid made. It was practically a death warrant.

But if he could swing it, he’d be in an even better position for a promotion. Surely that was worth it.

“Great!” Adler rose and extended a hand towards Dean. “I’ll send him your way immediately. Clear up some space for a second computer in your cubicle, and we’ll have him settled by the end of the day. I’m glad you’re willing to take this on, Dean. You succeed with this guy, and I’ll definitely put in a word for you with my boss.”

Right. Because a word with Zachariah’s boss would undo the damage that an omega intern would do to Dean’s work. Dean sighed and shook his boss’s hand, forcing a grin. He had better get back to work, try to get ahead of his emails and report compilations, before the intern could come in and fuck everything up.

0o0o0o0o0

By the end of the day, there was indeed a new computer set up opposite to Dean’s in his cubicle, an unpleasant reminder that his space was no longer his own. Dean glared at the machine every time his eyes strayed from his own screen, willing the intern to wait until at least tomorrow before showing up. So close, he was so close to finishing for the day, and the last thing he needed was to stay late to check up on some omega’s work.

Of course, the world could never line up in such a nice way. It wasn’t even three before the omega showed up, a handful of pens clasped in his hands, a thick binder of paperwork tucked under his arm. “Mr. Winchester?” the omega said, his low voice pulling Dean from his thoughts. As though his mere scent, all honey and roses, wouldn’t be enough to get Dean’s attention. “I’m supposed to work with you for the rest of the summer, right?”

Dean sighed and pushed his chair around, staring at the kid with a critical eye. Upon close examination, he wasn’t so much of a kid. He was probably older than Sammy, old enough to have graduated college, assuming he went at all. He probably had, to be working at Sandover. And what kind of omega went to college, anyways? Probably a damn progressive. “Yeah, I’m Mr. Winchester,” he said, offering a hand to the intern. Might as well be polite. “Call me Dean.”

“Dean.” His name sounded honey-sweet on the kids lips. Dean shuddered as a shiver of arousal raced down his spine. Just another reason why omegas shouldn’t be out in the work force—too distracting. “I’m Castiel.”

“Yep. I know.” After a long moment, Dean dropped his hand. “Go ahead and put your stuff at your computer. I’m gonna head out as soon as I finish these reports, unless you’ve got something you need to send me.” He really hoped there wasn’t anything. He could just imagine hanging around the office until seven or eight, fixing the kid’s errors.

“Well, I’ve got some data sets that need review, but that can wait until tomorrow.” Castiel set his binder and pens down by the computer and sank into the chair, watching Dean with cool blue eyes. “They shouldn’t take long. Pamela went over the formatting with me enough times that they should only need a quick check-up.”

Dean smiled tightly, the better to spare the omega’s feelings. A long night at the office, then. “Well, send them to me, and I’ll look them over,” he said, mentally apologizing to Sam. Looked like he wouldn’t be able to give his brother a proper send-off to his first day on the job after all. Which meant that he wouldn’t have the car. God, shit. Maybe he should just drop the car and keys off with Sam and walk home from the Gas-N-Sip himself. It would be safer than letting Sam walk home at some stupidly late hour.

Castiel nodded and turned to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Sent,” he said after a short silence. “What else do you need me to do?”

What Dean _needed_ the kid to do was go back home where he belonged, not hang around his office, his cubicle, messing up all of Dean’s hard work. But Adler would throw a fit if he said that, so instead, Dean forced a smile. “How about I send you yesterday’s reports? You can look over them, get a feel for the formatting and information inside,” Dean said, his voice strained.

Castiel blinked, staring at Dean with his eyebrows raised. “I’ve already seen the reports,” he said coolly. “Pamela had me proofread them before sending them to you for the final review. I’m fairly certain I’ve got the formatting down, and I know the information they contain without looking at them again.”

Dean sat back in his chair, surprised. Pam had given the reports to an omega to proofread? And they had come out that well? “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” Dean commented, flashing Castiel a bright smile. The omega stared back at him, unblinking. “Oo-kay. So you’ve got yourself an eye for typos and spelling mistakes. How are you with numbers?”

Castiel’s lips turned down slightly. “I went to school for accounting,” he said, the barest edge coloring his voice. Geez, like Dean could have known that! “Numbers are my specialty.”

Wow, this kid needed to pull the stick from his ass. Or maybe just replace it with Dean’s—no. Dean shook himself hard, slamming down on that train of thought. Yeah, the omega was cute and smelled good, but the company’s strict no-fraternization policy was enough to keep Dean from taking his traitor thoughts any further. Maybe when the omega inevitably realized that he wasn’t cut out for the workforce and left to go find an alpha—Jesus, where were all these thoughts coming from?

“Dean?” Castiel’s low voice cut through Dean’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

“Right.” Dean snapped to attention and met the omega’s eyes, deep pools of icy blue. Kid was wasted in an office. “Okay, then I’ll send you the projected figures for the month. You can make a long-term project of it—match up everyone’s weekly reports to the overall projection, and keep me updated on anything that falls behind schedule. Sound like a plan?”

Castiel pursed his lips, but nodded shortly. “All right,” Dean said, turning back to his computer and sending the preliminary report off to the intern. c.jmilton@sandover.net. He should have put that together when Zachariah had said the intern’s name was Castiel Milton. Well, he knew now. And the project he’d given the kid should be more than enough to occupy the omega, without putting too much of a hold on Dean’s own goals and projects. It was a good idea, Dean thought, congratulating himself. Everyone wins.

0o0o0o0o0

The weeks passed quickly, much to Dean’s relief. He still didn’t like Sam going out three nights a week to work at the gas station, but if anyone gave him trouble he didn’t mention it, and Sammy was always home safe in his bed by the time Dean got up for work in the morning. Castiel, much to Dean’s surprise, proved a very efficient worker, cross-checking the weekly reports in record time, never an error cropping up in his overall work. It was almost like working with a newly hired alpha, or something, none of the dreaminess or laziness Dean would have expected from an omega. Of course, it was probably the novelty of the thing. The kid would probably get bored and quit soon enough.

And then one day, near the end of August, only a few days before Sammy was scheduled to fly back to Stanford, Dean came into the office to find Castiel packing up his supplies, his pens and notebooks placed neatly in a box at the edge of his desk.

“You’re leaving?” Dean asked by way of greeting, sliding into his chair and picking up the coffee that waited already on his desk, a staple ever since Castiel had started working with him. Strong, two sugars, just the way Dean liked it. Just like he’d first told the kid, almost two months ago.

Castiel shrugged. “Today’s the last day of my internship,” he said calmly. “I got a call from Roman Industries two days ago, accepting me as a full time accountant. I go to work for them in a week, so there’s not much point in hanging around. The internship position was already extended more than a month past the projected date, anyways.”

Dean frowned. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d come to—well, to not mind the intern. Sometimes, he almost forgot he was working with an omega. “Wow. Working for Roman,” Dean said, raising his coffee mug in a mock salute. “Bet you’re looking forward to that.”

“I am,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean nodded, glancing up at Castiel over the edge of his coffee mug. A part of him was sad to see the kid go—no, more than just a part. Somehow, the idea that he might never see Castiel again just didn’t sit right with him. “Well, hey, mazel tov on the job.” Mazel tov on leaving Sandover. He wondered if Cas had even applied with the company. “What do you say we go out after the work day, get some coffee and celebrate?” he asked on impulse. Shit. Why had he said that?

Castiel stared at Dean, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Thank you. I’ll pass,” he said, his voice cool and neutral.

Oh. Dean wasn’t sure why that felt like such a let-down. “Got other plans?” he asked, startled to hear the heat behind his words. The harshness. It wasn’t like he’d been counting on Castiel to go along with his spur-of-the-moment suggestion—not really.

“No,” Castiel replied. “I simply don’t think it would be a good idea.”

All right, then. Dean tried to pretend that didn’t sting, for some reason. “Fair enough. I’ve got you ‘til the end of the day, though, right?” Dean asked, forcing a grin.

Castiel’s smile seemed just as forced. “That you do,” he said, turning away from Dean to face his computer.

Dean was antsy the entire day, throwing glances at Castiel as often as he could manage. When Castiel finally rose to leave, as the clock ticked on past five, Dean closed out of his computer and grabbed his own jacket, following the omega out the door.

The elevator ride was silent, and far more awkward than Dean would have liked. “So, Cas,” Dean said as they stepped out of the sliding doors. Cas? Where had that come from? “I’d like to see you again, even though you’re leaving. Any chance I could get your number?”

Castiel halted, staring at Dean. “No, I don’t think that’s wise,” he said after a long pause. “There’s no need. Now that we are no longer working together, I cannot imagine what we would have to talk about.”

“It doesn’t have to be work related stuff,” Dean said, jamming sweaty palms into his jacket pockets. “You know, we could just talk. Maybe get together at some point.”

Castiel’s lips twitched. “I would rather not,” he said, a hint of ice coloring his tone. The coldness chilled Dean to the core; the omega’s face was perfectly impassive and polite, but somehow, the way he was speaking, it seemed as if he didn’t like Dean. Hell, even like he _hated_ him. “I’m at a point in my life where I need to focus on my career, not form frivolous attachments. Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean stood stock still, his feet frozen to the floor, as the omega brushed past him and headed out to the parking lot. What had just happened? Dean couldn’t for the life of him understand it.

The elevator dinged behind him, signaling the arrival of the next wave of home-bound employees. Dean forced himself to move, walking clumsily towards the Impala. He fumbled open the door and collapsed into the driver’s seat, staring blankly ahead through the windshield.

What had just happened? And why was it bothering him so much?


	2. Corporate Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, it seems like Dean just can't avoid Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The odds that daily updates will be a normal thing are very slim. This is an exception.

Dean didn’t have time to mope about Castiel’s unexpected rejection much in the next few days. Between an influx of reports—he hadn’t realized just how good Castiel had been at cutting down on his workload—and helping Sam pack up his stuff, Dean barely had time to sleep, much less sit around feeling sorry for himself. But a week later, when Sam was settled back at Stanford and Dean had finally managed to get his schedule back to a semblance of normalcy, he found his thoughts turning to Castiel with increasing frequency. He wished he knew what he had done to make the omega dislike him so much. It wasn’t like he’d been some sort of slave-driver boss. Hell, he’d been damn considerate, triple-checking Castiel’s workload to make sure he wasn’t piling too much on him, checking in regularly in person to make sure the omega wasn’t overwhelmed. It didn’t make sense!

Whatever. Castiel had always had a stick up his ass. And it wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of other omegas and betas out there. Someone would strike his interest soon, and he could put this whole Cas mess behind him.

So naturally, at the worst of all possible times, the weekend after Sam went back to Stanford, Dean’s rut hit.

At least it was on a weekend. Taking off work to deal with a rut was embarrassing, to say the least. Everyone knew why you’d been gone when you came back still smelling of heightened pheromones and sex. This time six months ago, Dean had at least had a partner to help him deal with the waves of uncontrollable lust, but Lisa had thrown in the towel only a month later, and Dean was left with nothing but his hand to deal with uncontrollable waves of hot, painful frenzy. He spent Friday night through Sunday afternoon with his cramping hand wrapped tight around his knot, in bed, in the shower, in the damn kitchen when a wave of need swept over him while he was cooking, of all the inconvenient times. Burned hamburgers were not at all appetizing, but Dean didn’t have the energy or the presence of mind to re-make them. He had more important things on the brain.

Like bright blue eyes, pupils blown with lust and arousal. Like olive skin, slick with sweat, smooth and slippery beneath him. Like a low, rough voice, panting out wordless moans and Dean’s name. In his fantasies, Castiel was pliant beneath him, trembling with need, his hole leaking slick just for Dean’s cock. Dean shuddered through more orgasms than he could count to the idea of the omega’s ass, twitching and wriggling, inviting him in, to the thought of sinking into that warm, welcoming heat. Castiel would beg for him, scream for his knot, wanton and desperate and spread out for the taking.

In his rare lucid moments, Dean guessed he should feel a little bit guilty for thinking of a near stranger like this. But it wasn’t his fault that Castiel was so enticing, with those thick, sensuous lips and that lithe, graceful body. With that sweet, heady smell, so delectable, a come-hither to any alpha with a semblance of a sex-drive. No, he didn’t need to feel bad about this. It wasn’t like Castiel would ever know.

It wasn’t like Dean was ever going to see him again.

0o0o0o0o0

“Look alive, Winchester.” Adler. Of course. Dean saved the document he was working on and spun around in his chair, offering his boss a bright, false smile. “How would you feel about going on a little field trip tomorrow?” Adler asked, grinning cheesily. “Roman’s been asking for us to send someone out to finalize the details of our new partnership, and I’m afraid I’m booked. I’m sending you to meet with him in my place.”

Dean blinked, staring up at his boss. “Me?” he asked, his mouth hanging open.

“Yep! You.” Adler grinned. “You’re a shoo-in for that promotion. All the higher-ups have agreed. Consider this a test run before we get the paperwork signed away. You swing this deal favorably, and we’ll have you all set up in your new office before the week is out. You game, Dean-o?”

Dean stared stupidly at the man, his mind blank. “Yeah,” he said finally, once he could get his voice to co-operate. “Yeah, I’m game.”

Adler reached forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man, good man,” he said, baring his teeth further. “I’m seeing great things in your future, Dean-o. Big things. With your work ethic, the sky’s the limit in terms of advancement with this company. You’ve really got that spark, that special something that makes you Sandover material.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, dazed.

“All right, Dean-o. Why don’t you go ahead and take the rest of the day off? I want you at the office at seven sharp tomorrow, so I can brief you before sending you over to Roman.”

“Sure,” Dean said, his voice coming out stunned and stupid sounding. Zachariah was sending _him_ to meet with Roman? This was huge. Dean had never so much as met the owner of their partner company, and now he was supposed to meet with him to finalize the deal? Dean swallowed hard as he logged out of his computer and gathered up his jacket. Meeting with Roman. God, he hoped he didn’t screw this up.

0o0o0o0o0

Richard Roman turned out to be a tall, reedy alpha with an oily smile and lifeless eyes. In a sense, he reminded Dean of Zachariah. The resemblance was strangely comforting. “Ah, the Sandover rep, I take it?” the man said, striding forward to greet Dean himself. “Richard Roman. Call me Dick.”

Dean took the man’s offered hand and flashed a smile. “Dean Winchester,” he said, his voice strong and steady. That was good. A nice contrast to the nerves that twisted around in his stomach. He was so far out of his league—no, this was within his league. Adler wouldn’t have sent him otherwise.

“Good to meet you, Dean,” Roman—no, Dick—said, squeezing Dean’s hand and letting go. “Come on into my office. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

“Coffee, thanks,” Dean said, following the man into a plush office, adorned with expensive paintings and a thick Persian rug. “Opulent” was the best word Dean could find to describe the place.

“Susan!” A pretty beta poked her head into the room. “Coffee for Mr. Winchester, and I’ll take a cup of Earl Grey myself.”

“Of course, sir.” The woman, probably Dick’s PA, turned her lips up in what might have been a smile and disappeared, leaving Dean alone with the company’s owner.

“Don’t stand on my account,” Dick said with a cheesy grin. “Have a seat. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Dean nodded and sank into a soft leather chair, crossing his hands over his lap. “I take it Adler went over the basic terms of our budding contract with you, but let’s go over everything again, shall we?” Dick said, pulling out a large sheaf of papers.

“Sounds good,” Dean said, his mind flying over the briefing.

“Excellent.” Dick dropped the papers onto his desk.

Dean struggled to relax as they combed through the agreement, discussing terms and possible changes. The hours flew by, draining him, but by 4:15 they finally came to a conclusion. Roman signed the papers first, and then Dean, and then it was over. The partnership was official, legally binding, signed and sealed to the benefit of both companies.

“I hope to see you again, Dean,” Dick said as he walked Dean to his office door. “You’re a treat to work with, compared to that old puss Zach. Now, don’t you tell him I said that!” The man grinned. “Don’t need the old man having an aneurysm on my account.”

Dean forced himself to return the smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you at joint meetings,” he said.

“Good. I look forward to it.” Dick clapped him on the shoulder with a hot, dry hand.

Dean’s skin crawled slightly at the man’s touch. He excused himself and made a beeline for the bathroom, determined to scrub his hands for at least five minutes. Yeah, he was glad that the deal had gone through, but mostly he was glad that it was _over._ Something about Roman creeped him out. Fortunately, the odds were good that he wouldn’t have to interact with the man one on one much, even after getting that promotion.

Dean opened the door and slipped into the bathroom with a relieved sigh. He made his way over to the sink and turned on the faucet, scrubbing his hands hard with soap. Feeling marginally better, Dean glanced in the mirror, and froze as he saw the face behind him.

Oh, no. Here?

Heart hammering, Dean turned around, forcing himself to meet those familiar blue eyes. “Hey, Cas,” he said, swallowing hard.

“Dean.” Castiel stared unblinkingly back at him, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

Dean shrugged, hoping he looked casual. “I had a meeting with Roman,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “What about you?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “I work here,” he reminded Dean.

“Oh. Right.” Jesus. Dean hadn’t expected that he’d ever see the omega again. And now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say.

“I suppose you need to get back to your meeting,” Castiel said finally, edging past Dean.

“Hold on.” Dean resisted the urge to reach out and grab Castiel, even as the omega froze and turned to face him again. “Can I just ask you why?”

Castiel cocked his head, staring at Dean, his expression unreadable. “Why what?” he asked coolly.

“Why do you act like you hate me?” Dean asked, annoyed at the plaintive whine that crept into his voice. “I didn’t think I was a bad boss, or anything, so what?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “There are certainly worse bosses than you, Dean Winchester,” the omega said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Then what?” Dean demanded.

Castiel stared at him for a long moment. “Do not think for a second that you managed to hide your attitude towards me,” he said finally. “Do you think you’re the first alpha who has underestimated me because I am an omega? Who thinks I need to be coddled, that I’m just in the workforce to play around, that I’m going to leave for some domestic life filled with cleaning and babies as soon as I meet the right alpha?” Long, elegant fingers twitched in air-quotes around the word “right”.

“I don’t…” Okay, that was a lie. Dean _had_ thought all those things, and frankly, they were probably true. That wasn’t any reason for Cas to _hate_ him.

“Yes, you do.” Castiel scowled at him, his polite mask slipping for the first time since Dean had met him. “I’m not an idiot, Dean. I can tell. I have encountered this attitude often enough.”

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, fine. But can you blame me? Omegas don’t exactly have a great track record in hacking it in the work force.”

Castiel glared disdainfully at him. “I wonder why,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It couldn’t have anything to do with so-called well-meaning alphas trying to coddle us, only to hold us back, can it?”

Well, when he put it like that… Still. “Cas, I treated you like I would have any other intern. I didn’t _coddle_ you,” Dean protested.

“Of course you didn’t,” Castiel replied sardonically. “And I suppose that I never caught you staring at my ass either.”

Well, shit. Dean thought that he’d been subtle on the occasions when he’d checked the omega out. “All right, well, you can’t blame me for that,” Dean said defensively, crossing his arms. “I’m an alpha, and you’re an attractive omega. It’s just biology.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “There’s a little something called professionalism,” he said dryly. “You might want to look it up.”

“Cas—”

“You wanted to know why I don’t like you,” Cas said, cutting him off, “and I answered. I do not hate you, Dean Winchester. I also have no patience for sexist alphas. I hope that answers your question. Goodbye.”

Dean stared after Castiel, flummoxed, as the man locked himself in one of the bathroom stalls. “Jesus,” Dean muttered, wiping his hands on his pants and exiting the room, hurrying over to the elevator, then out to his car.

It was a blessing in disguise, then, that Castiel didn’t want to give him the time of day. Stuck up little thing. There were plenty of betas and omegas out there worth Dean’s time, that weren’t so uptight and hell-bent on destroying the social order, or whatever Cas thought it was he was doing.

Yeah. He’d talked to Castiel, and that would be the end of that. Finally, he could stop thinking about him. It was a good thing, Dean told himself. A very good thing.

0o0o0o0o0

Adler seemed very pleased when Dean came into the office the next day, dropping by his cubicle to wax poetic about the deal with Roman. “Everything’s in order,” the man said, grinning at Dean and shaking his hand. “Great job, Winchester. Keep up the good work.”

And Dean thought that would be the end of it. But the week dragged on, and he heard nothing from Zachariah about the promised promotion. Frustrating, but Dean knew that things could easily fall behind in the corporate world. He waited until the end of the next week before he made up his mind to talk to his boss—just in case. It wasn’t like he had anything to worry about, he reminded himself. Double-checking that everything was on track was just the smart thing to do.

Zachariah seemed surprised to see Dean outside his office. “Dean-o!” he greeted him, waving him inside. “Have a seat, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Dean smiled politely and sat gingerly on the edge of the chair opposite Adler’s desk. “I won’t take up too much of your time,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “Just wanted to check up on the status of that promotion.”

Adler chuckled, leaning forward. “Dean-o, you know how these things go,” he said, baring his teeth in a grin. “All in good time. We’re looking over the budget right now—you know how these things go. You can wait a little longer for management to get this all sorted out, can’t you?”

Dean frowned, trying and failing to keep his face neutral. “You said the end of last week,” he reminded his boss.

“Did I?” Zachariah asked. “I suppose I did. Well, call it a set-back. It doesn’t mean anything!” He laughed brightly. “Don’t you worry, Dean-o. You’re still getting that promotion—my word as a Sandover man. It’s just going to be a bit longer than anticipated before we can work through the budget, all right?”

Dean stared at him, doubt niggling in the back of his mind. “Right,” he said automatically, wrinkling his brow.

Adler nodded. “Don’t look so sour, Dean-o. Your contributions to the company haven’t gone unnoticed. I’ll be around to get this finalized with you before you know it, okay?” He stood, offering his hand to Dean.

Dean knew when he was being dismissed. Shakily, he rose, and shook Adler’s hand. “I’ll go ahead and get back to work then,” he said, mouth running on auto-pilot.

“Good man. Keep up what you’re doing,” Adler said, squeezing his hand with clammy fingers.

Frustrated, Dean made his way back to his cubicle and slouched in his chair. This wasn’t abnormal, he reminded himself. Companies were weird about stuff like this. Adler had probably just gotten sidetracked, or something. He’d make good on his word to Dean sooner, rather than later.

Screw it. Dean flew through the rest of the day, working at top speed and checking out as soon as the clock struck five. Ordinarily he’d make his way home and spend the evening watching sports, maybe give Sammy a call, but the idea held little appeal to him now.

Damnit. He needed a drink. A real one, not a beer from the fridge or a shot of Jack from the liquor cabinet.

So instead of going home, Dean drove the opposite direction, heading downtown to his favorite bar. He hadn’t been there much recently, but the décor was the same as it always was, and his favorite bartender, his old high school friend Benny, was on duty.

Benny looked pleasantly surprised to see Dean. “Hey, brother,” he said cheerfully, setting some sort of green concoction down in front of a college-aged beta and coming over to grip Dean’s forearm across the bar. Dean grinned and clapped the enormous alpha on the shoulder, relaxing slightly. A friendly face was just what he needed. “Long time no see,” Benny said, grinning at him. “Here I thought Mr. Corporate’d forgotten about little old me.”

“Ah, go screw yourself,” Dean said lightly. “What’ve you got on tap?”

Benny chuckled and listed off an impressive number of beers. Dean placed his order and waited for Benny to bring him his drink, settling down onto the stool with a sigh. Thank god for Fridays.

“Why the long face?” Benny asked, sliding Dean’s beer to him across the bar.

“Corporate shenanigans,” Dean replied mournfully, taking a long drink. “My boss is being a bitch about this promotion he promised me. Was supposed to be sealed and finalized this time last week. Here I am, still waiting for management to deal with the budget, or something.”

Benny clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Don’t know how you office types do it,” he said, resting his forearms on the bar. “Seems like a hell of a lot more stress than it’s worth. You ever think about ditching the white collar world and getting a real job?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, all the time,” he admitted. In his dreams, maybe. “But Sammy’s college isn’t gonna pay for itself. And he’s been talking law school, recently. I don’t have the money for that, but I can’t exactly tell him no.” He really should tell him no, but Sammy was determined. Dean could hope all he wanted that his brother would outgrow this damn insistence on getting an intensive job, but Sam showed no signs of slowing down. Freaking perfect for Dean’s paycheck.

Benny raised his eyebrows. “Sam ever think about getting a job himself?” he asked, straightening up to wave at the group of people that poured in through the door.

“Thinks about it too damn much,” Dean said sourly. “I don’t want him working while in college.” Or working at all. But at least a law firm would be safer than another damn gas station.

Benny stepped away for a few minutes to serve the new group of customers, then came back over to Dean and slid another beer his way. “On the house,” he said, smiling. “Brother, I know you’ve been taking care of that boy since he was in diapers, and I know it got a hell of a lot harder when your daddy passed. But he’s what, twenty now? Might be about time to let go of the reins a little.”

Dean snorted, draining his first beer and pulling the second closer. “I guess,” he muttered. Not really.

Benny sighed. “Seems like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” he said sympathetically. The door chimed behind them again, and Benny turned to greet the two people who walked in. Dean caught a whiff of alpha, probably coming from the long-haired brunette, and the sweet smell of omega.

Too sweet. Too familiar.

Dean could practically feel the stare of those cold blue eyes on the back of his head. “I’m gonna need another drink,” he muttered to himself as Castiel sat barely a few feet from him down the bar. Just what he needed right now. He couldn’t help it if Castiel made him want to stare, if his scent made him _want,_ period. But the last thing he wanted was another confrontation with the uptight omega.

“What can I get for you?” he heard Benny ask in that friendly tone he used with all his customers.

“Rum and coke for me,” the alpha said, her feminine voice low and sultry. Just hearing it set Dean’s teeth on edge; Cas looked at Dean like dirt beneath his shoe, but spent time with an alpha like this? Typical. “What about you, Clarence?”

“Fifth of whiskey,” Castiel said, his gravelly voice sending shivers down Dean’s spine, even from a distance.

“You got it.” Dean stared studiously at the surface of the bar, listening to the clink of glasses and bottles. “You let me know if I can get you anything else, all right?”

“Thanks, doll,” the alpha said sweetly. Ugh. Dean chanced a glance over at Castiel and his companion. They sat close together—too close, too personal. Looked like for all his talk about omegas getting ahead in the workforce and not forming attachments, the omega had gone out and found himself an alpha. Well, good for him. But why that alpha? Why not—”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were even more stressed than you were when I left you.” Dean glanced up at Benny, who stared down at him, forehead creased with worry. “Thinking too hard?”

Dean shook his head and took a long gulp of beer. “That omega,” he muttered quietly. “I know him. He doesn’t like me much.”

“That so?” Benny’s brow furrowed as he looked at Dean. “And you like him a little too much.”

Dean scowled. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, finishing his beer. “He’s mouthy, and annoying, he’s a complete stick in the mud, and he’s just generally unpleasant. And he says I’m sexist. _Me,_ sexist.” He set the cup down on the bar with a bit more force than necessary, scowling.

Benny snorted. “No offense, brother, but you are a little sexist sometimes,” he said lightly. “Still, I’m sorry you’re carrying a torch for someone who don’t see the good in you.”

“Shaddup and get me another beer,” Dean said, glaring at Benny, who offered him a shrug. “I’m not carrying a torch for him. He’s way too… Just… Not my tastes.”

“’Course, brother,” Benny said agreeably. “We’ll pretend I believe you, your pride is saved, and I don’t lose out on my tip. Everyone wins.” He winked at Dean.

“You are so lucky you’re pretty,” Dean jibed, drawing a deep laugh from Benny. “Nah, in all seriousness, you know I’d never short you. Even when you’re being a dick.”

Benny chuckled and took his glass. “What are friends for?” he asked, heading down the bar to pour Dean a refill.

“Thought friends were supposed to stick with each other and support each other,” Dean grumbled, taking the glass from Benny.

“And give each other Hell.” Benny watched Dean with a critical eye. “Now, how ‘bout you slow down those beers, brother. I don’t want to have to cut you off too early tonight.”

Dean snorted. “Sure, grandpa,” he said, taking a long drink.

He couldn’t expect Benny to spend the whole night talking to him, especially as more and more of the after-work crowd wandered in, demanding the bartender’s attention. Dean spent the next hour primarily alone with his thoughts, steadily drinking his way through his third beer and starting a fourth, catching snippets of conversation with Benny whenever the man could get a minute to check on him.

He was about halfway through his fourth beer when a tap on the shoulder drew him out of his thoughts. The alpha Cas had come in with stood next to him, an unpleasant smile fixed on her face. “Hey there, Dean-o,” she said, upper lip twitching in a sneer.

Dean scowled. Just what he needed. “Who’re you?” he asked sourly.

“The name’s Meg,” the woman said, sitting down on the stool next to him.

“That’s nice.” Dean took a sit of his drink. “The hell do you want?”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “A friendly little chat with my fellow bar patron. And maybe someone to hold my friend’s keys, considering he’s already puking his guts out in the bathroom.”

Dean snorted. “Can’t hold his liquor, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Cute,” Meg said, slapping a key ring down on the bar. “I see why he bitches about you so much.”

Castiel talked about him? That was a surprise. Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“You know, I just can’t figure out why he thinks you’re worth his time,” Meg said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s not like you’re the first meathead with a pretty face to treat him like shit. What makes you so special, hm?”

Dean snorted. “He doesn’t think I’m worth his time,” he snapped bitterly. “He made that clear.”

“Aw, humble. How cute.” Meg rolled her eyes. “Seriously, every time he gets plastered, he ends up bitching about you. He hasn’t stopped complaining since we got here and he saw you. I’d love to say I don’t care, but sadly, looks like I’m growing a heart after all. So, you listen to me.” She reached out and seized Dean’s chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You stay away from him, you got it? You see him on the street, you just walk on by. You run into him at the bar, you don’t look at him, you don’t talk to him. Got it?”

Dean jerked away from her, glaring. “The hell are you doing?” he demanded furiously.

“Looking out for a friend.” Meg scowled at him. “I don’t know why he thinks you’re so significant, but you’re not. So you make sure to avoid him until you’re nothing but a blip of a bad memory in his long, fruitful life. Come near him, and I’ll come for you.” Her lips curled upward in a nasty smile. “You don’t want me gunning for you, Dean-o.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Dean shoved the keys back at Meg. “You done here?”

“Keep those,” Meg said, pushing the keys back to him. “Give them to your friend the bartender. And I’d better not see you looking at him when he comes back out, okay?” She rose and gave Dean an ironic salute before turning and leaving.

Dean stared after her for a long moment, dumbfounded. “Bitch,” he muttered finally, turning back to his drink.

That was probably the most unnecessary conversation he’d ever had in his life, Dean thought wryly. Meg hadn’t told him to do anything that wasn’t already in the plan. He was perfectly content to ignore Castiel until he’d forgotten the omega existed. Hell, forgetting about him would be a blessing.

He hoped he never saw Castiel again.


	3. The Holiday Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between Sandover's partnership with Roman and his own brother's spur-of-the-moment extracurricular activities, Dean has been seeing more of Cas than he's comfortable with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until further notice, all chapters in this story have a blanket warning for sexism. There will undoubtedly be sexist attitudes somewhere in any given chapter. This chapter also contains mild (very mild) sexual harassment--nothing explicit, but possibly uncomfortable.

Weeks ticked by into months, and Dean saw the end of every work day alone in his cubicle, his emails to Adler unanswered, work piling up and piling up with increasing frequency. He spent progressively longer days in the office, and even took to coming in on weekends. Nothing. No response from Adler, not even any recognition that he had seen Dean’s emails.

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but it was driving him crazy. If he just _knew,_ he could fix it. But the waiting, the sick anticipation—it was too much. If it weren’t for his periodic emails to Adler, he would have thought that his boss had forgotten all about the promised promotion.

Occasionally he saw Cas at the bar, at the grocery store, even once at a restaurant when he took Bobby and his new wife Jody out to celebrate their one year anniversary. About half the time Castiel was alone, but sometimes he was accompanied by Meg, or by a long-haired beta with a thin, mischievous face. Dean didn’t bother approaching the omega. It was annoying, that he couldn’t seem to avoid Castiel, that he couldn’t seem to get him out of his mind, but even if he’d wanted to talk to him (and he didn’t, he definitely didn’t) Meg’s warning stood out clearly in his mind. It wasn’t worth it.

Sam’s return from college for winter break was a welcome relief from the maddening stress that had been piling on Dean’s shoulders for the past several months. It was nice to have someone to come home to, and with the holidays coming up, Dean saw a decrease in the amount of work he had to do. Enough people were taking vacation time that there just wasn’t as much for Dean to do. Fewer reports to compile, fewer numbers to crunch.

An email had come out from management at the beginning of the month, reminding employees that the annual office Christmas party would be held jointly with Roman Industries, the better to foster relations between the two companies. It wasn’t until the night of the party that Dean realized this meant Castiel would probably attend too. And that was fine, really. He was definitely alpha enough that it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t like he really cared about seeing the omega anyways.

Of course, maybe Sammy had something he wanted to do the night of the twenty-third. Family came before office parties, after all.

“Are you serious?” Sam asked when Dean approached him. “I thought you always said showing up to company parties was necessary for your professional image.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I want a night off.” Dean grinned and tousled Sam’s hair. “Come on, Sammy, help me out. Something. Anything.”

“Quit calling me Sammy.” Sam ducked out from Dean’s hand and scowled at him. “Why would I have plans? All my friends are in California right now. Bobby and Jody aren’t having us over until Christmas day. Besides, I thought you liked the Christmas party.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not too happy with my boss,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. Adler was almost three months late with the promised promotion. “At least help me make up an excuse.”

“No way,” Sam said, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s not my fault you waited this long to make other plans. Get yourself out of it, if it means that much to you.”

Which was how Dean found himself en route to the Christmas party anyways, decked out in a ridiculous reindeer patterned sweater-vest and snowman covered tie. Ho freaking ho. At least he could probably find an excuse to leave early, if he really needed to.

The one saving grace about the Christmas party was the sheer number of people who attended. Dean was able to avoid Adler and duck over to a small crowd of coworkers who, like Dean, had come to the party dateless. Yeah, no one from his department was hanging around the gaggle, but Aaron from accounting had always been open and friendly, and Ash from IT was always a hoot.

A quick glance around the room confirmed Dean’s fear that he might run into Castiel at the party. Resplendent in a gaudy Christmas tree sweater, the omega stood off in the corner, chatting animatedly with a pretty redhead that Dean didn’t know. Probably another one of Roman’s people. Dean made a mental note to keep an eye on his surroundings before going for punch or cookies. No need to make things awkward by bumping into Castiel on accident. Or maybe he’d do it just for the fun of it. Come up behind Castiel in line for punch, see if he could startle the omega into actually talking to him. No, that was a stupid idea. He wasn’t going to do that.

Damnit, he wanted to do that. A chance meeting, something where Cas couldn’t say he was out of line. That was a good idea.

“You’re zoning there, my man!” Ash said, punching Dean lightly on the shoulder. Dean’s gaze faltered, and he turned back to the group to engage them briefly before letting his eyes wander the room again.

Castiel was nowhere to be seen. Typical. Oh well—it had been a stupid plan anyways.

Dean wandered over to the refreshments table and slapped a couple cookies onto a stupidly festive paper plate. God, this was lame. Frat houses in college threw better parties than this. At least they had booze and dancing, instead of schmoozing and stupid fucking sugar cookies.

Dean meandered, nibbling at his cookie, glancing around the room for anyone else he’d like to talk to. Pamela stood against the wall, engrossed in a conversation with a large, dark skinned woman who probably worked for Roman. The new omega receptionist—Samanrel? Samandiral? Some weird name—seemed to have wiggled his way over to Aaron’s and Ash’s group. Gordon lounged alone against the wall, a plastic cup of punch in his hand, but Dean would sooner eat his own dirty socks than talk to Gordon of his own free will.

“—Can’t find him anywhere, Dorothy.” It was the redhead Cas had been talking to. She was standing close to a brown haired woman, clutching her hand. “You know how Cas gets at parties like this. He hates them. He wouldn’t just go off on his own.”

“Come on, Charlie, so he’s coming out of his shell. It’s a good thing.”

The woman shook her head. “No, I know Cas. I told him I’d stick with him the whole time, and… Ooh, this is a mess.” Dean frowned, studying her face. She looked genuinely distressed. “I’ve checked my phone, I’ve tried calling him—nothing.”

“So he wandered off and found the booze. Someone’s got to break into it first.” The brunette woman leaned forward and placed a kiss on the redhead’s forehead. “You’ll see. Twenty minutes from now he’ll come up to you, plastered, with some far-fetched, drunken theory about Firefly. He’s _fine.”_

Dean looked around the room. He didn’t see Cas anywhere, but that didn’t mean anything. Yeah, the party was technically confined to the building’s reception hall, but people got bored and wandered off every year. It wasn’t any of his business.

Dean was _not_ looking for Castiel when he decided to excuse himself from the reception area and wander the building a little. The party was lame anyways.

He got all the way down the hall before he heard voices. “You keep up the work you’ve been doing, and I see big things in your future, Castiel. Head of accounting, for one. You keep making me happy like you’ve been, and I’ll ensure that your future with this company is as bright as can be.” That was—holy shit, that was Dick Roman. Dean hadn’t even seen him come in, though he supposed it made sense for the head of the other company to show up.

“Thank you, sir.” Castiel’s voice was quiet, hardly more than a mumble. Dean frowned, edging further down the hall and peering around the corner.

Castiel stood with his back against the wall, his eyes darting from side to side. Roman was standing close to him—too close, Dean thought. Their chests were almost touching. He frowned and took a silent step forward, tilting his head in question at Cas.

Oblivious to Dean, Roman continued. “I think with a little more time and effort, we can get you settled in on the fast track. How does a little bit of one-on-one work with me sound? Scoot you ahead a little, ensure that you get all the help you need to become the company’s next shining star.”

“That’s very generous, sir,” Castiel said, his eyes flickering briefly to Roman before landing on Dean again. Dean swallowed hard. Yeah, so he didn’t know the omega all that well, but he’d never seen Cas look so uncomfortable.

Dean cleared his throat and took another step forward. “Hey, Cas,” he said, smiling brightly. “Your friends are looking for you. I think—” shit, what was her name? “I think Charlie wanted to tell you something.”

The relief that swept over Castiel’s face was almost tangible. “Does she? I’d better get back, then,” he said, his lips twitching in a weak smile.

Dean nodded, shifting awkwardly. “Hello, Mr. Roman,” he said.

“Dean!” Roman turned to face him, a hard, oily smile oozing across his features. “Good to see you again. Didn’t I tell you to call me Dick?”

Dean forced a laugh. “I guess you did, Dick,” he said, folding his hands behind his back.

“Well, I won’t hold the two of you up. Go on, scram!” Roman waved a thin hand, his eyes boring into Dean’s face. Dean didn’t fool himself for a second; Roman knew perfectly well that Dean had seen them, and knew what was going on. Shit. This wasn’t good.

Castiel stepped away from the wall and half-jogged down the hallway, his back ramrod straight with tension. Dean walked quickly after him, falling into stride with the omega. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Castiel said flatly. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“You sure about that?” Dean demanded.

“Yes.” Castiel slowed slightly. “I know how to take care of myself in situations like this, Dean.”

“Oh yeah?” Rage simmered in Dean’s veins—why, he didn’t know.

“Yes. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

Dean scowled, jamming his hands into his pants pockets. “Then why do you stick around? Why stay with Roman if you’re gonna invite that sort of crap?”

Castiel halted outside the reception area and glared at Dean. “Invite it?” he asked coldly. “I don’t invite it, Dean. But it happens. I’m not going to be held back by—”

“By your boss hitting on you?”

“Yes, Dean, by my boss hitting on me, if you must be so crude.” Castiel took a deep breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my friends.”

“Cas, wait—”

“Do not touch me,” Castiel snapped as Dean reached for his arm. “I’ve had enough of pushy alphas for one night, thank you.”

Dean drew back as though burned. Pushy alphas? He wasn’t—he was just trying to—“Wow, Cas, nice to know you think so well of me.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “You know perfectly well what I think of you,” he said coldly. “Now, do you mind? You’re blocking the door.”

Dean sighed and took a step back, watching Castiel disappear back into the room. Well, that had gone well.

But what did he expect—either of them? Apparently, Cas wasn’t naïve enough to not know that this sort of thing would happen. And Dean, well, he knew alphas. It was natural to want the pretty omega in the vicinity. Granted, Dean himself would never presume to push something on an omega, but others? Seeing Roman act like that towards Castiel shouldn’t have surprised him.

Whatever. It wasn’t any of his business. If Castiel wanted to stay in the workforce, surrounded by predatory alphas, well, bully for him. Not Dean’s problem.

Mood thoroughly soured, Dean stomped back into the reception room. Someone had seen fit to break out the wine, signaling that the party would probably be ending within an hour or two. Finally. Dean stalked over to the refreshments table and poured a healthy glass worth into a plastic cup, resisting the urge to down it like a shot. Stupid party. Stupid Castiel, with his pretty face and his pretty scent and his stupid, stubborn insistence on working like an alpha.

“You’re Dean?” Pulled out of his thoughts, Dean turned to face the speaker. It was Castiel’s red-haired friend. “Charlie Bradbury,” she said extending her hand. Dean caught a whiff of cinnamon and overripe peaches—a properly delicate omega scent. It should have been intoxicating. He should have found her extremely attractive. Right now, he just wanted her to go away.

But being rude to her would look terrible for him, and he was already questioning whether Adler would ever give him that promotion. “Yeah, I’m Dean,” he said politely, shaking her hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Charlie smiled. “So, Cas will never say this, because he’s stubborn, but thanks for getting him out of there. That was really good of you.”

“Uh…” Dean blinked, surprised. “I just did what any decent person would do.”

Charlie shook her head. “Nah, it was cool of you. Not many people can stand up to Dick Roman. That takes some serious balls.”

“Thanks?” Dean said, perplexed.

“You know, you’re not how he makes you out to be,” Charlie said, clearly oblivious to Dean’s confusion. “He always talks about you like you’re some great big alpha ape. Of course, he’s usually drunk at that point, but still. You’re not half-bad.”

Wonderful. How very complimentary. Dean sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what I did to piss him off so much,” he muttered.

“Eh, he’s dealt with a lot of shit. Haven’t we all?” Charlie shrugged. “Anyways. I just wanted to say thanks. And you know, you don’t seem like a bad guy. Maybe you’re a dick, but you’re not too bad.”

“Thanks?” Was that… Was that supposed to be a compliment?

“All right, well, Cas is pretty shaken up, so I’m gonna drive him home. See you around.” Charlie raised her hand in a Vulcan salute, grinning.

Hesitantly, Dean returned the gesture. Charlie laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Yeah, not half-bad at all. Pull your head out of your ass a little, and you might actually have a chance.”

“I’m not—” But the woman had turned, walking away from him. Dean frowned and took another sip of punch, his mind spinning. Not half-bad? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

And why, after hearing one of Castiel’s friends tell him that he might have a chance, did he feel so light and floaty inside?

0o0o0o0o0

The morning of the 24th dawned cold, clear, and snowy. The sun was shining, not a cloud dotted the bright blue sky, and Dean was only halfway certain that he wouldn’t _actually_ strangle Sam for waking him up this early.

“Why do you need to go to the goddamn soup kitchen again?” he groused, squinting as the sun beat down too brightly on the windshield. His head throbbed warningly, an unpleasant reminded of the sheer amount he’d had to drink after leaving the company party, and his stomach lurched at the idea of being around food for any amount of time.

“I told you,” Sam said, shifting awkwardly in the passenger’s seat. “I got a call from one of my old co-workers, Ruby. She’s got a bunch of community service hours to fill, and she said it gets boring, doing them alone.”

Dean grunted. “What’d she do?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Yeah, Sam’s voice was way too casually neutral.

“What did she do to get a bunch of community service hours?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows and glancing at his brother.

Sam squirmed awkwardly. “How do you know it’s that kind of community service? Could be a school thing.”

Dean scowled. “You’re a crappy liar, Sammy,” he said. “At least tell me what sort of hooligan I’m leaving my baby brother with for the next twelve hours.”

“Um.” A glance at Sam told Dean that his brother was seriously considering lying. Then Sam sighed, apparently giving up. “She got caught with heroin,” he muttered.

Great. Yeah, there was no escaping this headache. Dean sighed, resigned. “Tell me again why we care if some junkie’s gonna be bored?”

“She’s not just some junkie,” Sam said defensively. “She’s nice. Really nice.”

You don’t get up at six in the morning to waste twelve hours on some spontaneous community service project for “nice”, Dean wanted to argue. “Is that code-word for hot?” he asked, pulling into a parking space along the curb and fishing out change for the meter.

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, going pink.

Dean could see about fifty things wrong with this scenario, and not a single good one. He really should sit Sam’s ass down in the car and drive him back home. Go back to bed, spend a nice day playing video games, maybe drag their old sleds out to the public park. A nice, respectable way to spend Christmas Eve.

“Sam!” A pretty omega with dark, wavy hair poked her head through the door to a ramshackle old building and waved at them. Dean cursed inwardly. Seriously? If she’d at least been an alpha, he could have taken some comfort in the thought that maybe his brother was pining after the right sort of people, the sort he could depend on, not who would have to depend on him. Oh, this day was getting better and better.

At least she didn’t look like a junkie. No meth-mouth or open sores on her face. He guessed Sam wouldn’t have thought she was hot otherwise.

“Hey, Ruby.” If possible, Sam flushed even darker.

“That’s the over-protective brother?” The girl waved at Dean, grinning.

Over-protective? Dean shot Sam a wounded look, not that his brother saw it, focused as he was on his old co-worker. Dean sighed and fell in step behind Sam. Might as well make sure that this was _actually_ a soup kitchen, not some drug house full of junkies and dealers out to corrupt his impressionable little brother.

It definitely looked legit. A long counter with pots of soup and pasta on hot plates stood at one end of the building, looking out over long tables and plastic chairs. A vaguely familiar looking beta stood in profile, chopping onions with a long, thin knife. Dean relaxed slightly, even as Ruby dragged Sam off to grab an apron from the hook behind the counter. Sam would probably be okay. At least he wouldn’t be alone with druggie there.

“Gabriel, we’ve got a truck from Sacred Heart out back.” Dean froze as Castiel’s voice wafted from some back room. “Can you come talk to Pastor Jim?”

The thin-faced beta turned his face to the back, and Dean realized why he looked so familiar. He’d seen him around town with Castiel. “Coming, Cassie!” the beta said cheerfully, dropping the knife and pulling open the door behind the counter.

Quietly, Dean crept over to Sam and Ruby and tapped his brother on the shoulder. “So, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you here alone,” he murmured, giving Sam his best concerned-brother face.

“Dean, seriously?” Sam hissed, glaring at him. “It’s twelve hours! I’ll be _fine!”_

“Yeah, okay, I get that, but still.” Dean spread his arms wide, shrugging. “I’m not saying you can’t stay here, just that I’m staying with you.”

“Oh my god,” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes. “What happened to you being too hungover to be up this early?”

“Changed my mind.” Dean reached past his brother and snagged an apron off the hook, pulling it quickly over his head. “Besides, spirit of Christmas. Help the poor and homeless, right?”

Sam scowled. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

The door to the back room creaked open and Castiel walked out, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “Ruby, can you get the lights and put out the open sign? I think we’ve got enough started to…” His voice trailed off as his eyes wandered over to Dean, widening.

Dean smiled and raised a hand in greeting. Castiel stood very still for a moment before turning to face Ruby, deliberately ignoring Dean. “These are the friends you asked to come help?” Castiel asked, his voice strained.

“Well, I asked Sam,” Ruby said cheerfully, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders. Dean resisted the urge to rip her hands from her body and throw them across the room, away from his brother. “Looks like the over-protective big bro wants to stay too. Keep him safe from little old me, right?”

Dean scowled. “I’m not over-protective,” he muttered, glaring at the girl.

Castiel nodded, refusing to so much as glance at Dean. “Well, the more helpers, the better,” he said reluctantly. “Come on back. Ruby can show you the ropes.”

Dean smiled at the back of Castiel’s head and followed Ruby into the back room. It wasn’t too complicated. Quick, simple, nutritious food that needed to be prepared continuously, that he could manage. He hadn’t even been seven when he’d started cooking regularly for himself and Sammy. And serving the people who came in, well, that couldn’t be too different from his high school job at Biggerson’s. Dean was a bit more worried when Ruby said something about breaking up fights, though the girl was quick to assure them that fights rarely broke out. “People come in here to eat and get warm, not to beat each other up,” she explained. “We had a little bit of a gang warfare problem about a month ago, but we’re pretty sure the cops have arrested them all by now. A couple of punk-ass kids with bandanas around their arms, not exactly the Crips.”

A few people had wandered in by the time Ruby was done showing them around, and Dean settled in quickly to serving pasta, carving out a few square feet of space for himself. The thin faced beta stood next to him, serving soup; apart from a brief introduction—the man's name was Gabriel Milton, and he was Castiel's brother—he didn’t say much to Dean, though Dean could swear that he caught the man’s eyes flickering over to him on several occasions.

He didn’t see much of Cas. It seemed that the omega had situated himself doing something in the back room, out of sight for the first several hours. Sam and Ruby stood together chopping vegetables at the edge of the counter, a little too close for Dean’s comfort, and occasionally Castiel would come out to bring supplies or take back scraps.

Even when Dean took a break for lunch, swiping a plate of pasta and bread, Castiel managed to avoid him by taking over Dean’s place serving pasta. At least there, Dean could take covert glances at him, admiring the long, lean lines of his form, turning his head minutely to catch quick whiffs of his scent. Finishing lunch was a downright shame, because it meant that Castiel disappeared into the back again, leaving Dean to mechanically dump pasta onto paper plates without so much as a pretty face to distract him.

Finally, around seven at night, the crowd started dying down. “We close around eight, most nights,” Gabriel said, more words he’d spoken to Dean all day. “You good to stick around and help clean up?”

“Sure,” Dean said, nodding.

“Oh, good. Takes forever when it’s just me and Cassie. Hey, maybe if floppy-hair over there stays, we’ll even be able to get Ruby to stick around.” Gabriel grinned cheerfully.

Dean hoped she didn’t. He smiled tightly and turned back to the next person in line, an alpha with shockingly orange hair, handing him a plate of pasta with sauce dripping off the edges.

It was definitely after eight when the last person wandered out of the building and Gabriel locked the front door. “Go ahead and put any leftovers in these,” the beta ordered, showing Dean a stockpile of Styrofoam containers. “Cassie and I will drop them off with the local homeless communities once we’ve got this place cleaned up.”

Dean nodded. “You need any help with that?” he asked.

Gabriel waved dismissively. “Nah, we’re good. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Okay.” Dean squeezed past Gabriel to grab a cloth and start wiping down the counter, glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder to see if Castiel had come out of the back. Nope. Dean sighed and turned back to cleaning. So much for actually being able to talk to Cas.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” A muffled bang sounded from the back room. Dean’s head shot up; he turned and took several strides, throwing open the door and peering into the ill-lit room.

Castiel stood in the center of the room, blood pouring profusely from his hand. “Damnit,” the omega cursed, staring at his palm. “Damnit! Gabriel!”

“Move.” The beta pushed past Dean, hurrying over to Castiel. “What did you do?”

Castiel swayed slightly, staring at his hand. “Some jackass made a donation of, of second-hand cooking supplies,” he said, his face steadily paling. “Didn’t pack it well. Went to open the box and managed to slice my hand open on an unpackaged knife.”

“Shit.” Gabriel wrapped an arm around Castiel as his knees started to give. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“Is it that bad?” Castiel asked, his face sheet-white.

“I can take him,” Dean offered, stepping forward.

Castiel seemed to stiffen in Gabriel’s arms. “I don’t need the hospital, Gabe,” he said, right as his knees buckled completely.

Dean lunged forward to help Gabriel catch him before he could hit the concrete floor. “Get off, both of you,” Castiel snapped weakly, struggling to get his feet under him.

“Stubborn as always, little bro?” Gabriel clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Yeah, if you could take him, that’d be great. I need to get these leftovers handed out.”

“I am _fine,”_ Castiel hissed quietly.

Dean shook his head and ripped off his apron, folding it several times lengthwise and wrapping the bulky fabric around Castiel’s palm. “Dude, you can’t even stand. I know you don’t like me, but I’m not letting you bleed all over yourself until you pass out.”

Castiel muttered something inaudible. Dean sighed and scooped Castiel up, heaving him over his shoulder and ignoring the omega’s indignant protests. “Sammy!” he bellowed, poking his head out into the main room. “We’re taking Cas to the hospital!” His eyes swept the room; he groaned as they fell upon Sam, lip-locked with Ruby off in a corner.

Sam and Ruby leapt apart, startled. “What’s going on?” Sam asked, wiping his lips hastily on the back of his hand.

“Cas sliced his hand open,” Dean said tersely. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Sam followed Dean silently out to the car and climbed into the backseat without even asking. Dean glowered at the ticket slapped beneath the wipers—forget _one time_ to reset the meter and get pinged, typical—and slid Cas into the passenger’s seat. “Strap in,” he ordered, walking around the front of the car, stuffing the ticket into his pocket and settling down in the driver’s seat.

“This is wholly unnecessary,” Castiel said, his words slurring slightly. “I’m fine. I don’t need to go to a hospital.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” Dean said, turning the car on. ACDC blared loudly from the speakers; he winced and turned the volume down almost to mute.

“You can turn that back on,” Cas muttered as Dean drove off. “It’s a good song.”

Dean smiled slightly. “Yeah?” he said, pleased. “See, Sammy, I’m not the only one with good music taste.”

“I expected better of you, Cas,” Sam said seriously from the back.

Castiel grunted in response, his eyes fluttering shut. “You okay there?” Dean asked, concerned.

“If you ask me that again,” Castiel snapped, “I will smite you.”

“Smite me,” Dean repeated, amused in spite of himself. “All right, tiger, sure you will.”

Castiel cracked his eyes open. “Must you do that?” he demanded, glaring at Dean.

Dean met his eyes for a brief moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Do what?” he asked, turning. The good thing about already being in the city was that the hospital wasn’t too far away.

“Call me stupid pet names,” Castiel replied tightly. “I believe—I believe the first thing I ever said to you was ‘don’t call me darling.’ Why haven’t you stopped?”

Dean frowned. “Shit, Cas, I don’t mean anything by it,” he protested.

“They never do,” Castiel muttered grumpily.

“Really, Dean?” Sam piped up from the backseat. “ _Really?_ Darling? What kind of patronizing bullshit is that?”

Dean scowled. “I don’t have to listen to you guys,” he muttered, reaching for the volume dial.

“That’s your problem right there,” Sam complained. “Maybe people wouldn’t think you’re such a jerk if you quit posturing for five seconds and listened.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you. Music’s too loud!” Dean did not need to deal with this bullshit right now. Not when Cas was bleeding all over his car, and had almost passed out back at the soup kitchen.

Castiel halted any plans Dean had to carry him into the emergency room with a death glare. He did, however, let both Sam and Dean keep their arms around his shoulders just in case he fell. Awkwardly, they walked into the emergency room and settled Castiel on one of the hard plastic chairs, before going to the receptionist to tell her what had happened.

It was nearly an hour before a doctor was free to see Castiel, by which point he seemed significantly less likely to faint. “Looks like you didn’t lose enough blood to need a transfusion,” the kind-faced alpha said, putting the last few stitches in Castiel’s palm. “Keep it clean, and see a doctor in about four weeks to have the stitches taken out.”

Castiel seemed much steadier on the silent walk back to the car. “Hey, at least it could’ve been worse,” Dean said awkwardly in an attempt to break the silence.

“Mm,” was Castiel’s only reply.

“Right.” Dean unlocked the doors and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Where am I taking you?” he asked as Castiel and Sam buckled their seatbelts.

“Back to the kitchen,” Castiel replied shortly. “I need to pick up my car.”

Dean frowned. “You sure you’re good to drive?” he asked.

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel snapped, his face going red. Jesus—could Dean ever say _anything_ right around this guy? “So I have an embarrassing tendency to get dizzy at the sight of my own blood. That does not negate my ability to operate a motor vehicle.”

Dean winced. “Yeah, well, no offense Cas, but you’re not exactly the best driver—”

“You’ve never seen me drive!” Castiel burst out, whipping his head around and snarling at Dean. “Never! And you—all your questions—always ‘can you do this, you sure you can do this, you don’t think this is too much for you’—I know myself, Dean! I know my limits! You don’t! You just—you just assume you know me, because you know some stupid and backwards stereotypes about omegas, but you don’t. You don’t know a thing about me!”

Dean leaned backwards, stunned into momentary silence. “Well, it’s not like you’ve given me a chance to get to know you,” he said, his voice coming out small.

“Well, it’s not like I have any cause to think you’d be interested in more than wetting your knot in me,” Castiel snapped.

“Dude!” Sam yelped from the backseat. Dean had all but forgotten he was there; from the look on Cas’s face, he wasn’t the only one. “What the hell, you two? I don’t know what’s going on with you guys, hell I don’t even know how you _know_ each other, but… Come on!”

Dean slumped. “Sorry,” he muttered, turning the car on.

The music did little to diffuse the awkward tension that permeated the car as Dean drove Castiel back to the soup kitchen. Castiel exited the car and slammed the door shut without so much as a wave, stalking around the building to retrieve his car from the back. Dean sighed and pulled back out onto the road, impatient to get home as quickly as possible.

“How do you know Cas?” Sam asked finally, breaking the quiet.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dean muttered, glaring at the car ahead of him. Idiot needed to learn how to drive the damn speed limit.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said. “He’s right, though, you know. You’ve always been kind of a dick about what omegas can and can’t do. And betas.”

Dean glared at his brother through the rearview mirror. “All I’m hearing is that you want to walk home tonight,” he snapped.

“Dean, I’m serious.” Sam made a face at him. “You’re so stuck on what people “should” do, you don’t stop to think about what they can do, or what they want to do. Even when it’s yourself! You’re not fooling anyone into thinking you actually _want_ to work in an office all day. Everyone knows you just do it because you think you’re supposed to.”

“Sammy, I swear to god, I will kick you out of this car if you don’t shut up,” Dean snarled, slamming on his breaks as the light ahead turned yellow.

Sam quieted, but Dean could practically feel his brother’s glare on the back of his head. Whatever. Sammy didn’t know what he was talking about.

What a perfect waste of a day.


	4. Christmas Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at Bobby's comes with unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You bet that I'm going to include every single contrived and cliche situation imaginable to get Dean and Cas in the same room. Well. Maybe not EVERY situation, but close enough.
> 
> Still on a roll with this, no signs of slowing down yet. (Watch these words jinx the situation. Hopefully not...)
> 
> Warning for use of a slur in dialogue.

Christmas at Bobby’s had been tradition ever since Dad had passed away six years ago. Dean was up at seven to load presents into the car and drag Sam out of bed, which was never too much of a chore on Christmas. They got to Bobby’s by eight, just in time to miss Jody, who apparently was attending some kind of Christmas mass.

Not that Dean complained to have some time with just Sam and Bobby, like the old days. There was something nostalgic about breaking into the eggnog a good 9 hours before socially acceptable, about sitting around drinking and bullshitting with the man who had essentially raised them. The grizzly old alpha was more than happy to turn the TV onto some replay of an old football game and grill Sam about his studies, much to Dean’s delight and Sam’s clear discomfort.

“So, Dean,” Bobby said when he had sufficiently embarrassed Sam, folding his arms across his chest. “I could hear that old bucket of bolts you drive halfway up the road. You ever think about bringing her out here for some maintenance?”

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, she needs it,” he said dryly. “I haven’t had the time. I’ll probably take a weekend this spring to give her a real tune-up, though. Proper cleaning too.”

Bobby nodded seriously. “Seems a bit overdue,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You ever think about taking some time off from the office, coming out here to get some actual work done?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I wish,” he said. “Adler’s a piece of shit. I can’t afford to take time off now.”

“Damn shame,” Bobby muttered. “Seems like I never see you boys anymore. You ever think about picking up the phone?”

“What do you mean you don’t see us anymore? I’m looking at your ugly mug right now!” Dean teased.

Bobby snorted. “Watch yourself, boy,” he grumbled. “You ain’t too old for me to whoop your ass.”

“Keep telling yourself that, old man,” Dean said, chuckling.

The phone rang in the kitchen. Bobby sighed, rolling his head, several loud pops sounding from his neck. “Can you get that, Sam?” he asked. “If it’s Rufus, tell ‘im to fuck off.”

“Sure, Bobby,” Sam said, getting up and going into the kitchen.

“So,” Bobby said when he and Dean were alone, “how’ve you been holding up, really? And don’t give me any bullshit.”

Dean sighed, glancing at the kitchen. “Fine, Bobby,” he said. “No, really,” he added, cutting the old alpha off before he could say anything. “Yeah, my job sucks and I miss Sam while he’s at school, but really, I’m okay. Could be doing a lot worse. I could be stuck in some old dump with my old lady,” he added, laughing as Bobby glared at him.

“Now, why do I even bother?” Bobby complained. “Well, that’s good then. Your old pal Benny called me a few weeks back, sayin’ you’ve been all kinds of stressed out.”

Dean scowled. “Benny can keep his mouth shut,” he muttered. “What’s with all the caring and sharing anyways? You going soft on me?”

“About as soft as a steel trap,” Bobby said grumpily. “Forgive me for worrying about my boys.”

“Yeah, well, we’re good,” Dean said, shrugging. “Trying to put aside some money so Sam can go to law school.”

“Yeah? Is Sam helping with that?” Bobby asked.

Dean was spared having to answer when Sam came back into the room. “That was Jody,” he said to Bobby. “Her tires are acting up. Can’t get any traction in the snow.”

“Aw, Hell,” Bobby muttered. “We need to go pick her up?”

“Nah, she’s having a couple guys from church bring her over,” Sam said. “She said to tell you she invited them to stay for lunch.”

Bobby shrugged. “Ain’t like we don’t got room, or food,” he said. “I keep telling her those tires are bald and need to get replaced. Should’ve taken my truck, or her cop car.”

Dean laughed. “You’ve been married to her for more than a year, and you still think she’s going to take your advice? Have you met your wife?”

“Don’t sass me, boy.” Bobby stood and gathered up the empty glasses. “Come on. Don’t need church people knowing we’ve been drinking before ten on Christmas.”

Dean and Sam helped Bobby clear away the dishes and put away the eggnog. Sam grabbed a tray of cookies from the fridge and brought them out into the living room, while Bobby turned off the game and tuned into a Christmas station on the radio. As festive music played softly, filling the room with a kind of familiar contentment, Dean, Sam, and Bobby settled back down on the couch.

They didn’t have long to wait before the door opened. “Shoes off at the door,” Dean heard Jody say, “and you can just leave your jackets with them. We’re not big on ceremony here.”

Dean, Sam, and Bobby rose in unison as Jody came into the room, her cheeks flushed from the cold. “Well, this looks _way_ too innocent to be my husband and his boys,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Where’s the fire?”

“Ah, can it,” Bobby said fondly, crossing the room and kissing her quickly on the lips.

“Heya, Dean,” Jody said, beckoning him forward and squeezing him tightly in a quick hug. “Sam. It’s been too long, kiddo! Don’t you ever write?”

Sam laughed and hugged her. “We already got that speech from Bobby,” he complained, smiling. “Sorry, Jody. School gets busy.”

“Oh, trust me, I remember that from getting my master’s what, five years ago?” The cheerful beta took a step back and turned her head. “Come on, we don’t bite!” she yelled down the hallway.

Dean’s stomach plummeted as Gabriel poked his head into the room. It’s okay, he told himself. He could deal with Gabriel. Just as long as he didn’t bring—

“Well hello there, Sam and Dean! Fancy seeing you two again so soon!” Gabriel grinned and waved. “Ooh, cookies. I like this house.” He crossed the room and grabbed a cookie from a tray on the end table. “Cassie, there are cookies! Mrs. Singer, you need to have car troubles more often!”

Damnit. The universe hated him.

Castiel walked into the room, his face perfectly neutral. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Singer,” he said quietly to Bobby, extending a bandage-wrapped hand.

Bobby grunted, shaking his hand carefully. “I’m not old enough to be Mr. Singer,” he said gruffly. “It’s Bobby.”

“See if you have better luck than me,” Jody said, shaking her head. “I’ve been trying for months to get them to call me Jody, no luck.”

“What can I say?” Gabriel asked, his mouth full. “Our mama raised us to be polite.”

“You’re not polite,” Castiel muttered.

Dean shifted awkwardly, wondering just how rude it would be to flee to the kitchen and hide until they left. Probably very. “Hey Gabriel, Castiel,” he said, jamming his hands into his pockets.

“Dean! Thanks for taking Cassie to get patched up last night.” Gabriel crossed the room, and—oh god please no—wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, lifting him a solid inch off the floor. “Wow, muscle man. Why am I not surprised?”

Beside him, Sam coughed. “Ah, don’t worry, you’ll get your hug too, kiddo,” Gabriel said, releasing Dean and wrapping his arms around Sam. “Wow, also muscley. Is it a family trait?”

“I think I’m gonna go make some hot chocolate,” Dean muttered, deciding that the coward’s way out was probably the best option.

“Ooh, hot chocolate. I’ll come with.” Gabriel grinned and followed Dean, his feet tamping loudly across the floor.

Dean sighed and reached into the cupboard, pulling out two mugs. “Make it with milk or water?” he asked, grabbing two packets of instant hot chocolate.

“Milk. No, no, you’re doing it wrong,” Gabriel said as Dean started to pour the milk into the mugs. “Jeez, what, were you raised in a barn? You heat it on the stove, mix the packets in while it’s getting hot. Tastes better that way.”

Dean shrugged and took a step back, letting the smaller man take over. “So, Dean,” Gabriel said cheerfully, whisking the milk around in the pot before setting it down on the burner with a flourish. “When are you and my pain-in-the-ass little brother going to man up and take care of your UST?”

“UST?” Dean asked, confused.

“Unresolved sexual tension.”

Dean choked on his own spit, staring at Gabriel. “What?” he croaked finally.

“Oh come on, like I didn’t notice. Like anyone with eyes missed it. You two have hard-ons the size of the Chrysler building for each other.” Gabriel smirked, mixing the hot chocolate packets in with the milk.

“Did you seriously follow me in here to have this conversation?” Dean demanded, defensive.

“No, I followed you in here because you said something about hot chocolate. Doesn’t mean I can’t take the opportunity to make you feel very uncomfortable.” Gabriel grinned. “And you didn’t deny it, either. Score one for me.”

Dean grimaced. “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoying?”

Gabriel laughed. “Constantly. I thrive on bothering people. So. You, my brother, boning. When’s it gonna happen? God knows Cassie needs to get laid.”

Dean stared at the beta, at a loss for words. “He doesn’t like me,” he said finally.

“True,” Gabriel agreed. “Trust me, that pisses him off even worse. He always ends up with a massive boner for jerks, but you, my fine alpha-monkey friend, seem like you might have a good guy hidden somewhere under that caveman.”

Dean scowled. “Can someone please tell me why I keep getting accusations of being a caveman, or an ape, or a dog, or whatever?”

“It’s the posturing and over-compensation,” Gabriel said in a stage-whisper, “but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I can hear you,” Dean growled. How had this guy managed to survive adulthood without someone wringing his neck?

“Can you? Oops. My bad.” Gabriel took the pot from the stove and poured the hot chocolate into the two mugs. “But really. It’s the posturing. Try letting go of the stick up your ass and living life a little, will you?

Dean took a mug from Gabriel, staring at him with disbelief. “I don’t—your brother’s the one with the stick up his ass!” he exclaimed.

“I know, right? Birds of a feather, you two. So.” Gabriel took a sip of hot chocolate and closed his eyes, humming contentedly. “God, this is like drinking sex. I need to remember this brand. Anyways. Just talk to him—really talk to him. Not at him, not around him. Maybe don’t be an utter cock to him. Believe me, panties will fly if you start treating him like an actual human being.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Why are you so invested in your brother’s sex life?” he demanded.

The smile slid from Gabriel’s face. “Because I hate seeing him miserable,” he said. “Because he’s been hung up on you for six months, and trust me, Cassie doesn’t get hung up on people too easily. Yeah, he’s always been all work and no play, but recently he’s _really_ been all work, no play. Except when he goes out drinking, and then he comes back bitching about you. Trust me, Cassie’s insults don’t get that colorful unless he cares.”

Clearly, every single one of Castiel’s friends was screwed up in the head. Insulting a person constantly hardly sounded like a point in Dean’s favor. “I would talk to him, but he doesn’t _want_ to talk to me,” Dean said, his voice coming out in an annoying whine.

“Well, duh, you’re a dick!” Gabriel took another sip of hot chocolate. “At least, he says so. I dunno, spending twelve hours volunteering when that’s clearly not your shtick just to keep an eye on your baby brother gives you points, I’d say. Even though we both know that wasn’t the only reason you hung around yesterday.”

Dean rubbed his temples, feeling the barest edge of a headache coming on. “I don’t even know how to talk to him,” he admitted. “Everything I say, he takes the wrong way.”

“Like I said, it’s ‘cause you’re a dick.” Gabriel shrugged. “If it helps, Cassie’s just as conversationally retarded as you. Makes for great prime-time TV.”

Dean grimaced. “Yeah, okay. Whatever,” he muttered, clutching his hot chocolate and stomping out into the living room.

“Well, don’t you just look jolly,” Bobby said, seeing the look on Dean’s face. “Come on, sit down. If Cas and Gabe don’t mind, we’re going to open presents.”

Dean nodded and sat beside Sam on the couch. “Works for me,” he said, glaring at Gabriel as the other man walked into the room. Gabriel returned Dean’s glare with a smug grin and settled down in an easy chair, blowing on his hot chocolate.

Presents that year were few but meaningful, as always. Dean nearly tackled Sam in a hug at the collection of vintage car magazines he’d given him, and Bobby actually got up to kiss Jody on the head when he unwrapped a bottle of very old, very fine scotch from her. Presents taken care of, they settled into light, easy chatter. As annoying as the beta was, Dean had to give Gabriel kudos for holding his own so well in banter against Bobby.

Dean couldn’t help but steal glances at Castiel periodically. His stiffness subsided gradually, and Dean thought that he had never seen the omega so relaxed. It suited him, especially when a small smile played over his lips whenever Sam made a clever comment, or the one time when Jody managed to leave Gabriel at a loss for words.

Lunch was simple, sandwiches made with cold cuts, but the surprisingly relaxed atmosphere managed to make Dean finally feel at ease. He’d never seen anyone put honey on a ham and mayonnaise sandwich, and made his disgust clear to Gabriel; to his surprise, Castiel actually laughed along with everyone else at that. Dean would be lying if he said it didn’t send fissures of pleasure down his spine.

“Well, Cassie and I had probably better head out,” Gabriel said as they finished clearing away dishes and leftovers. “We’ve still got that great big family dinner to get to.”

“We could always skip it,” Castiel muttered, his brow furrowing.

Gabriel snorted. “And miss out on the ribbing about our status as the family black sheep? Cassie, do you mean to say you _don’t_ want to hear mother’s angry bitching?”

“No, I really don’t,” Castiel said, deadpan.

“Well, maybe Luci will show up and take some of the attention off us. You never know.”

Dean chuckled. “Hard-ass family?” he asked.

Gabriel sighed dramatically. “You have no idea,” he said, throwing up his hands. “It’s all ‘When are you going to settle down with a nice alpha, Castiel? When are you going to get a real job, Gabriel? Why are there rumors going through church that you were involved in an orgy with—’”

“What Gabriel means to say,” Castiel said, cutting him off, “is yes. Our family is quite strict.”

Huh. And yet they managed to produce an omega like Castiel. Dean shrugged.

“Cassie just doesn’t like going because every time we see our mother, she grills him about finding a mate and giving her grandchildren,” Gabriel said, clapping Castiel on the shoulder.

“Can you blame me?” Castiel snapped. “I’m the only one she ever yells at about it!”

“Aw, it’s because you’re her precious baby omega, yes you are.” Gabriel wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “I keep telling you, bring an alpha, she’ll just assume you’re a thing. She’d leave you alone then.” He grinned mischievously. “Hey, I know! You could bring Dean!”

Castiel tensed. “Gabriel,” he said slowly, “I would like to speak with you. Alone.” He peeled Gabriel’s arm from around his shoulders and seized him around the wrist, dragging him off towards the living room.

Dean stared after them. “Is he serious?” he asked aloud.

“God, I hope not,” Sam muttered. “That’s a bad trope from every romantic comedy out there.”

Bobby and Jody snorted in tandem. “Oh yeah, I can just see our Dean getting involved in a romantic comedy type situation,” Bobby said wryly.

“I don’t know, those usually involve romance,” Jody said, smothering a grin.

“And comedy,” added Sam, “so Dean’s automatically out of the picture.”

Dean glared at them. “Why do I get the feeling that everyone in this room is against me?” he demanded.

Bobby chuckled. “No one’s against you, boy,” he said light-heartedly. “Can’t take a little ribbing from your family now and again?”

Dean opened his mouth to reply right as Castiel appeared in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, his forehead crinkled unhappily. “Dean,” he said, the words coming reluctantly from his mouth. “Would you be opposed to accompanying me to my mother’s house tonight?” Beside Dean, Sam choked on his cookie.

Dean blinked, staring at him. “As your fake date,” he said slowly.

Castiel scowled. “No,” he replied shortly, “though my mother will probably refuse to believe that you’re not, in fact, my date.”

Helplessly, Dean stared around the room. Sam and Bobby stared at him, both seemingly at a loss, and Jody leaned against the kitchen counter, smothering laughter. “You know what?” Dean said, glaring around at his family. “Sure, Cas. I’ll come.”


	5. Meet the Miltons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets Castiel's family. He thinks might understand why Cas is so uptight all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't slow me down! (Knock on wood.) I hope that everyone likes exceedingly uncomfortable meet-the-family segments.

“I’m surprised you’re not pitching a fit at the idea of being around me for so long,” Dean muttered as snow crunched beneath his feet on the way out to Castiel and Gabriel’s car.

“If you think I am happy with this situation, you’re wrong,” Castiel said in reply. “But Gabriel is right. My mother does not believe that alphas and omegas can associate together without some sort of sexual interest.”

Privately, Dean agreed with Castiel’s mother, but he was sure that saying so would result in Castiel exploding at him. With a sigh, he climbed into the backseat of the sedan, looking back at Bobby’s house. Already, he regretted his decision. This was going to be a nightmare.

Dean had never been so glad for seatbelts as he was when Castiel climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving the passenger’s seat open for Gabriel. He’d thought that Gabriel would be the one to drive. Wouldn’t it be just his luck to die in a car crash because the worst driver of the bunch was at the wheel?

Castiel peeled out of Bobby’s yard quickly enough to send Dean slamming back against his seat. “Easy on the gas there, kiddo!” Gabriel yelped, clutching at his armrest.

Castiel’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, meeting Dean’s in challenge. “What? I’m just trying to make our friendly neighborhood sexist feel like he’s right about something,” he said, his voice clipped.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Dean muttered, glaring at Castiel. “Take me back. I’m not going to your mom’s stupid Christmas dinner with you.”

“Ohoho, too late now, Dean-o,” Gabriel said, twisting around to grin at him. “Looks like this is officially a kidnap. You’re ours until at least nine tonight.”

Dean slumped in his seat. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this,” he groaned. “Seriously, what do I get out of it?”

“Me and my brother’s charming company?” Gabriel suggested, his grin widening even further.

“Will you both please be quiet?” Castiel demanded irritably. “Neither of you has a particularly pleasant voice.”

Dean scowled and crossed his arms. _You did this to yourself, Winchester,_ he reminded himself. God, Sam wasn’t going to let up about this for months, if ever. And that was even assuming he survived the night. Even if he managed to make it through Cas’s clear disdain without wanting to put a bullet through his own head, there was still the matter of the family.

God, what if they assumed he was courting Cas? Or worse, what if they assumed they were a casual thing, that Dean was the sort of alpha to fuck around with omegas and leave them? The thought made Dean feel a little ill. It didn’t matter what Castiel’s family thought about him, he assured himself. He wasn’t going to see them after this. This was just a favor, because apparently he was too nice for his own good.

The street that Cas finally turned on, about twenty minutes later, was much nicer than any neighborhood Dean had ever actually entered. Dean swallowed hard, suddenly conscious of his worn jeans and tacky Santa t-shirt. Houses like these, he felt like he should be wearing one of his suits. Even Gabriel and Castiel, who didn’t exactly give off the feel of old money, were at least dressed in church clothes.

“Ready to face the dragon?” Gabriel asked, opening his door.

“I think I’m going to be ill,” Castiel muttered in response.

Dean stood awkwardly by Castiel as they trooped up the steps to ring the doorbell. Up close, he couldn’t avoid Castiel’s scent, couldn’t get even a reprieve from that intoxicating smell. Under any other circumstances, he would probably be thrilled. Now? When he was going to meet the omega’s parents, all the while playing the role of a friend? He really didn’t need this.

Castiel stamped hard on Dean’s foot, startling him. “Act natural,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Natural. Yeah. Pretending to be friends with an omega who hated him—a frustratingly hot omega who hated him—and going to meet his parents. All because Dean couldn’t stand down from an unspoken challenge. Real smart, Winchester.

The door swung open, revealing a stern faced alpha woman, bottle-red hair bright against a sleek grey pantsuit. “Castiel,” she said, her voice thick with too-sweet warmth. “Gabriel. And who is this?” she asked, peering at Dean.

“Mother, this is Dean Winchester,” Castiel said before Dean could speak.

“Castiel, you’ve finally brought home an alpha?” the woman said, smiling and extending a hand towards Dean. “Naomi Milton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dean gulped and shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” he said, fumbling over his words. The woman’s smile made her look like she was going to eat him.

“Well, come on in. Gabriel, please take your shoes off this time. The maids did _not_ appreciate having to clean up your muddy footprints at Thanksgiving.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” Gabriel said, something in his tone making the words sound like a challenge.

Dean tried not to stare as he followed Castiel into the house. Cas came from this kind of money? Why the hell was the omega working, then? He could probably live off his parents’ money for the rest of his life, even if he never did meet an alpha. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want an alpha, though, Dean thought wryly. They’d have to be freaking rich to take care of him like he was used to.

“Gabriel.” A dark haired alpha came out into the hall, trailed by a dark skinned beta woman. “It’s good you see you again, little brother.”

“Yeah, you too, Michael,” Gabriel said, reaching up to hug the man. “And I see you and Raphael finally tied the knot, pun fully intended?”

“Charming,” the woman said dryly.

“And Castiel.” Beside Dean, Cas stiffened. “I see you’ve brought a friend, for once.”

Cas snorted. “Yes. And keep in mind that he _is_ just a friend, no matter what mother seems to think,” he said coolly.

“I wouldn’t dream of thinking otherwise.” The alpha—Michael—looked at Dean through cool, calculating eyes. “Good. You could do better. Where did you meet this one—a recipient of one of your charity ventures?”

Dean clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. Ooh, he was right. This was going to be very unpleasant.

“Michael, you’re being rude,” his wife said, her voice reprimanding.

“Yes, Michael, you’re being very rude,” Castiel said, his voice hard. “This is Dean Winchester. He mentored me during my internship at Sandover.”

Michael glanced back at Dean, his eyebrows raised. “Did you, now?” he said smoothly. “Well, then, my apologies.”

“Sure,” Dean said in reply. “No problem.” Yes problem. Family like this, he could see why Cas had a stick up his ass.

“Anyways,” Gabriel cut in, drawing out his vowels obnoxiously, “now that everyone’s put their knots away, any idea how long we have to stay before we can cut and run? I know that this whole shindig is right up your alley, Michael, but me, Cas, and Dean actually know how to have fun, and would kinda like to have some time to do that.”

Michael turned to Gabriel. “If you’re worried that mother’s attention will fall on you, don’t be. Lucifer will be attending tonight’s festivities.” His lip curled slightly.

“Well, hey, good to know Luci’s not back in jail.”

Dean frowned and turned to Castiel. “What’s he talking about?” he whispered.

“My older brother Lucifer,” Castiel muttered. “He recently got out of prison.”

There was definitely a story there, but Castiel had already turned away. “And what about Anna? Will she be coming?” he asked.

“Anna sends her regrets,” Michael replied, “but she, Hester, and the children are spending the holidays with Hester’s family. You might want to take a leaf out of her book, Castiel.”

Cas folded his arms across his chest. “Let me guess. Meet an alpha, move halfway across the country with them, and lose contact with my family because I defer all the holidays to my mate?” he demanded. “I think I could stomach the part about moving halfway across the country and losing contact with my family.”

“Oh, don’t start this again,” Michael snapped, his polite mask slipping for half a second.

Jesus. Dean was suddenly grateful for every Christmas that Dad had spent roaring drunk. He felt like he had wandered into one of those “Real House-Betas” shows or something.

“No, by all means, let’s not. You started it, you end it,” Castiel snapped.

“Cas,” Dean muttered nervously. Michael was starting to look angry. “Maybe you should—”

“If the next thing I hear from you isn’t silence, Dean, I will not hesitate to make you physically incapable of fathering children,” Castiel snarled, not even bothering to look at him. Dean shut up, a hand instinctively dropping to cover his crotch. How was that called for?

Michael took a deep breath. “I see these past few months have done nothing to cool your temper, brother,” he said slowly. “This is why all of your alphas are ‘just friends.’”

Castiel snarled. “All of my—” his fingers formed air quotes “—alphas are just friends because I happen to have friends who are alphas. I’m not looking for a mate.”

“No, of course not. And you really expect us to believe that you’re not slutting it up with those so-called friends?”

Dean had just enough presence of mind to seize Castiel around the shoulders as the omega lunged at his brother. “Let go of me, Dean,” Castiel hissed, wrenching against his grip.

“Michael,” the beta woman said sternly. “Stop behaving like a child. I thought you wanted to be calm by the time Lucifer gets here?”

“Oookay,” Gabriel said, plucking Dean’s hands from Castiel’s shoulders. “Everybody needs to calm down. Cassie, Dean, what do you say to raiding Mom’s liquor cabinet?”

Castiel took a deep breath. “At the moment, that sounds unwise,” he said coldly. “I’m afraid that too much liquid courage would result in mother losing any chance of receiving grandchildren from Michael, and that would be a very rude thing to do to Raphael.”

“Always the threats of castration,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. “Somehow, I’ve managed to keep my balls all this time.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Cas, we should… We probably should—”

“Shut up,” Cas snapped. “Living room. Television. Something mindless, before this _idiot_ opens his mouth again.” He glared at Michael.

Dean stood very still as Castiel turned and marched past him. Gabriel shrugged and followed. Dean took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down, and started to walk after the two brothers.

A hand on his shoulder stilled him. “Tell me this truthfully, Dean Winchester,” Michael said softly, his voice an unpleasant hiss in Dean’s ear. “Are you just another one of my brother’s so-called friends, or are you more to him? He’s never truthful with us.”

Dean glared at the wall in front of him and shrugged out of Michael’s grip. “Cas and I are friends,” he said roughly. So it was a lie. Big deal. It wasn’t a lie in the way Michael thought.

“I see,” Michael said quietly. “Well, if you ever become more than friends? Get my brother under control. His behavior has been nothing short of ridiculous ever since he talked mother into letting him go to college. It needs to end.”

Dean couldn’t disagree that Castiel’s behavior was ridiculous, but the way Michael talked, it seemed less like he was concerned for Cas, and more like he wanted to control him. “We done here?” he asked by way of reply.

“You tell me.”

Dean shuddered, his skin crawling, and sped down the hall, following the sound of Castiel’s raised voice. Apparently, he’d started yelling at Gabriel for something now. Dean found them in a living room approximately the size of his first apartment, standing in front of the largest flat-screen TV that Dean had ever seen.

“Your brother’s a real piece of work,” Dean commented, glancing around the room. Three couches? Who needed three couches?

“Really?” Cas snapped. “Here I thought you and he would hit it off just fine.”

“You think Michael’s a piece of work, wait until you meet Lucifer,” Gabriel commented, sprawled out in an over-stuffed chair. “At least Michael’s just a grade-A douchebag. Lucifer’s the one who almost got disowned when he got arrested for beating the shit out of some kid, high on who even knows what designer cocktail.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “I thought my family had issues,” he commented, picking a couch and sitting down awkwardly.

“What, your little bro and Mr. and Mrs. Singer? Man you guys are the Brady Bunch,” Gabriel said light-heartedly.

“I was more talking about my dad, but yeah. I can see that,” Dean said, sighing.

“I want to go,” Castiel said, glaring at Gabriel. “We made an appearance. Can we _please_ go?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “It’s all good for you, Cassie. Mommy dearest still hasn’t figured out where you live. Me? We leave now, she’ll be hounding my ass every weekend until the next big holiday.”

“And how is that my problem?”

Dean groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You said something about TV?”

“Shut up, Dean,” Castiel snapped.

“Hey, baby bro. Quit ragging on the guy. Not his fault he doesn’t want to deal with your raging PMS,” Gabriel quipped.

Castiel snarled. “I should just leave you here,” he hissed.

“Yeah, but you won’t. Come on. TV. There’s a Criminal Minds marathon on today. You could get some ideas for how to kill Michael.” Gabriel grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“I hate you,” Castiel muttered, throwing him the remote.

“Love you too, bro,” Gabriel said cheerfully, turning on the TV.

After several hours of blessed peace and television (even if it was tuned to one of those crime shows) a soft-spoken omega came by to call them to dinner. From the way she was dressed, Dean assumed she wasn’t part of the family, and the idea made him uncomfortable. How did rich families like this do dinner? They didn’t keep a wait staff on hand or something, did they? He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel comfortable with something like that.

Fortunately, the woman left them at the door to the dining room and disappeared, leaving Dean, Cas, and Gabriel alone with the rest of Castiel’s family. Splendid. Naomi sat at one end of the table, and Michael sat at the other, Raphael at his right hand side. Next to the beta was a thin, blond man with unsettlingly light eyes and an indistinct scent. He might be an alpha, but he could just as easily be a beta. “That’s Lucifer,” Gabriel muttered to Dean.

There were three seats opposite Raphael and Lucifer. Gabriel hastily took the seat next to Michael, grinning up at the alpha. Castiel darted over to the seat next to Gabriel, leaving Dean to sit by Castiel’s mother. Wonderful. Dean sat awkwardly, looking at the array of dishes spread out on the table. He recognized maybe half of them.

“Michael, if you would say grace?” Naomi asked when everyone was seated, nodding regally.

Belatedly, Dean ducked his head as Michael began to speak, a long-winded, sanctimonious prayer. It was nothing like eating at Bobby’s house, where Jody sometimes said a quick blessing, or even like eating with his first girlfriend’s family, who had turned out to be strong evangelicals. Beside him, Castiel’s hands were clenched, his knuckles stark white, his breathing too controlled, too even, to be natural.

“And may we forever remember, on this day of the birth of Your son, that You sent him to save us and follow your commandments and will. Let us rejoice in the natural order that You, God, have bestowed upon us, that we may grow and flourish in Your love until such a day as we may meet You in paradise, amen.”

“And let the eating commence!” Gabriel shouted, his head shooting up.

“Gabriel, enough,” Naomi said warningly.

“No, by all means, let’s have Gabriel break the tension.” Lucifer smiled eerily. “Or Michael might decide that he wants to have a second grace. It could go on for hours.”

“I see even in prison, you couldn’t be bothered to find religion,” Michael shot across the table.

Dean winced, waiting for another acrimonious response, but Lucifer simply smiled. “Now, you, green eyes, I haven’t met,” the man said, reaching across the table for mashed potatoes.

“Dean Winchester,” Dean said, forcing a smile.

“A friend of Castiel’s?” Lucifer stared at him with pale, probing eyes. “Interesting.”

Dean nodded, quietly taking a platter of turkey from Castiel. Yeah, he could picture this dude in prison all too easily.

“So tell me, Dean, how did you and Castiel meet?” Naomi asked, taking sip of wine from a fancy crystal glass.

Dean turned his gaze to the woman, struggling to hold his smile. “I mentored him when he interned at Sandover,” he said.

“Did you, now?” Naomi offered him a polite smile of her own. “I hear that they’ve partnered with Roman Industries.”

“Yes ma’am.” Shit. Was that right? Maybe Naomi was the sort of person who’d get offended at being called ma’am. Jody had never liked it.

But if it bothered Naomi, she didn’t say anything. “Well, it’s good for Castiel to meet an alpha with a _proper_ job,” she said, reaching out and taking the turkey from Dean. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said when Castiel scowled at her. “Don’t think I don’t remember that biker girl, Margaret.”

“Just because Meg rides a motorcycle doesn’t make her your stereotypical biker,” Castiel said coldly. “You know full well she’s a hostess.”

“Right, a serving girl. Lord knows we need those, but I can’t imagine what purpose you see in spending time with them.”

Dean shifted awkwardly, looking down. “Can I get the green beans, Cas?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

“Of course.” Castiel reached across the table for them, only for Michael to reach out and slap the back of his hand.

“Manners, Castiel,” Michael said coolly. “We’ll pass them along properly. My God, what sort of uncouth people have you been spending time with?”

“So, Luci!” Gabriel half-shouted. “How’s your old cellmate, what’s his name, Gadreel?”

Naomi, Michael, and Raphael stiffened almost in unison. “Gabriel, that is hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” Naomi said warningly.

“Oh shush, mother. It’s nice to hear from the one person in this family who doesn’t try to sugar-coat things.” Lucifer smiled coldly at Gabriel. “He’s doing quite well. He was found retroactively innocent last month, and released with a hefty stipend from the state for his troubles.”

“Yeah, good for him!” Gabriel said, grinning. “Always liked the dude. Send him my way if he needs a job, candy shop’s looking to hire.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lucifer said, chuckling.

Dean’s head was spinning from the sheer number of twists and turns in the conversation by the time dinner was finished. He’d managed to gather that Castiel’s family was overwhelmingly elitist and obsessed with outward appearances, but from the looks of the house and Gabriel’s words beforehand, he could have put that together. He didn’t understand why it had been so important for him to be here, though, or how it was helping Castiel. Apart from a few brief questions, Castiel’s family had hardly addressed him at all.

The subject finally came up in full over desert—pecan pie, the one saving grace of the entire debacle. Dean could probably convinced to come back for the pie alone. It was heavenly, just the right combination of thick and sweet and rich and—well, all the things that made pie so good.

“So, Castiel,” Naomi said, delicately slicing off the tip of her piece with the edge of her fork. “You plan to continue to work for Roman Industries?”

Beside Dean, Castiel tensed. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.”

Naomi sighed, setting her fork down without so much as bringing the pie to her lips. “I had hoped that you would see reason by this point,” she said, narrowing her eyes at her son. “You’ve had six months to play in the work force. Isn’t it about time you settled down with an alpha?”

If looks could kill, Dean was pretty sure Naomi would have exploded by now. “No, mother,” he said shortly.

“Really, I just don’t understand it.” Naomi leaned forward, an expression of sympathy playing across her regal features, hands folded in front of her on the table. “You’re getting too old for this, Castiel. You don’t have unlimited time.”

“I’m twenty-three,” Castiel snapped.

“And by your age, Anna had been mated for four years! She and Hester already had two children! They’re expecting a third now, and quite in time too. I was starting to get worried that they had decided to stop after Rachel.”

“Mother.” Castiel took a deep breath. “While I understand that Anna chose to commit to a mate at nineteen, and while I wholeheartedly congratulate her on having three children by twenty-six, that is not what I want from my life.”

Naomi’s eyebrows drew together tightly. “You don’t know what you want from your life, Castiel,” she said sternly.

“And here comes the shitstorm,” Lucifer muttered.

Castiel glared. “You know what?” he said, throwing back his chair and rising. “We’re going. Gabriel, Dean, get up.”

Dean took a last hasty bite of pie and stood, shortly followed by Gabriel.

“Castiel, sit back down,” Naomi ordered angrily. “You can’t run from this conversation forever.”

“Watch me.”

“Dean,” Michael cut in, watching with disapproval, “get your omega under control.”

Castiel slammed a hand down on the table. “I’m not his omega!” he screamed, his face going dark with rage. Dean took a step back, unnerved in spite of himself. “I’m no one’s omega! And this, this is why I left this family in the first place! But no, you had to come after me, come and drag me back, say you’ll let me go off to college and live my life, but it’s the same old, same old. I’m not putting up with it anymore.”

“Cas,” Dean said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Get your hands off me,” Castiel snapped, spinning around to glare at Dean. “You, you’re not as bad as them, but oh, sometimes you remind me of them. Same patronizing attitude, how I don’t know what I want, how I just need to settle down—no. No. I’m leaving. Don’t bother inviting me for Easter, mother. I won’t come.”

“I give it a nine out of ten. What do you think, Gabe?” Lucifer quipped.

Castiel seized his nearly uneaten slice of pie with his hands and hurled it at his brother. “Fuck you, Lucifer. You’re almost as bad as Michael.” He glared around the room furiously and stormed off.

“Cas!” Dean shouted. “Gabe, c’mon,” he muttered, turning to follow Cas. “Before he leaves us here.”

“Right with you,” Gabriel said, hurrying after Dean. “Well, that was practically a picnic compared to normal. Glad you came.”

Dean took a deep breath and jammed his feet into his shoes. He really hoped Castiel hadn’t driven off without them. “If that’s a picnic, I’d hate to see the bad ones,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you would,” Gabriel agreed. “Good news is, you won’t have to. Maybe. Hopefully.”

Dean shuddered and threw open the front door. To his relief, the car was still in the driveway, though the lights were on and Cas sat behind the wheel, tapping his fingers impatiently.

“I need a drink,” Castiel said as Dean threw open the door to the backseat. “Are any bars in the area open on Christmas?”

“I’m sure somewhere is,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “People are going to see their families. We’re not the only ones who need a drink after that. Silent night, drunken night, all are blitzed—”

“You’re paying,” Castiel snapped. “Since it was your idea to actually attend this catastrophe.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I can work with that,” he agreed. “Sound good to you, Dean-o?”

A bar sounded like a great idea. “Yeah,” he said.

“Wonderful.” Castiel backed out of the driveway and sped down the street, no regard for the speed limit. “Getting drunk with you two. After visiting my mother. Sounds so relaxing.”

Dean shrugged. “Could be worse. You could be stuck with us somewhere other than a bar.”

Castiel snorted. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess I could be.”


	6. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing a drunken Cas first-hand, Dean learns exactly why the omega doesn't like him. He finally gets his promised promotion, and life is wonderful, until he runs into Cas again in the worst possible circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have no idea how to warn for this concisely, so I'll put it here: there is an instance in this chapter where a character genuinely believes, and with good reason, that they are about to be raped. It does NOT happen, but if that's triggering to you, proceed with caution. I think that's all the warnings for this chapter.

They finally found an open bar down a city block Dean had never bothered checking out. All wooden interior and rustic décor, it looked more like something that Dean would expect to see on some lonely highway in the middle of the country than something he’d find in the city. But it was open, and that was the important thing. A blinking red sign out front read _H-RVELLE’S RO-DHOUSE,_ the neon proclamation that it was open flickering on and off.

The bar stools were worn, scuffed wood rather than plastic. It was an interesting change from Dean’s normal bars. He decided to keep it in mind—the place felt almost homey, weird for a bar. He could like coming back here. Dean settled down on a stool between Castiel and Gabriel and ordered a beer from the blonde omega behind the bar. The girl didn’t even look old enough to drink herself, but she took their orders quietly and slid them their drinks without saying a word. Just what Dean needed after the disaster at Castiel’s house. For a while, they quietly sipped their drinks, and Castiel picked up a shot tray, with a warning to Dean and Gabriel to not even think about stealing one for themselves.

Of course, giving Cas open access to all those shots was bound to backfire, as Dean found out after not long enough of a break.

 “You know why I don’t like you, Dean?” Castiel asked, pounding back his fifth shot in an hour. Dude really needed to slow down. And whatever the omega wanted to say, Dean was _not_ drunk enough to hear it. “’S ‘cause you could probably be good. Really good. I can tell. But you’re not. You’re just another asshole.”

Dean sighed, clutching his beer close to his chest. “I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he said, glancing at the bartender, trying to catch her eye.

“No,” Castiel said stubbornly. “You don’t tell me when to stop drinking. You don’t tell me anything, you got that?”

“Batten down the hatches,” Gabriel whispered, taking a sip of whatever pink, fruity concoction he had ordered. “You’re about to see drunk Cassie first hand.”

“I’ve been seeing drunk Cas since he took his third shot,” Dean hissed in reply.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Gabriel muttered knowingly.

Castiel slammed his empty shot glass on the table. “It’s always the hot ones,” he complained. “The hot ones are always, always _dicks.”_ He laughed unhappily. “And always, the kind of dick where you almost can’t tell. ‘Cause you’re not like shoving me into a wall and trying to feel me up. Or making stupid comments, all ‘hey baby, want my knot?’ No, you’re too _nice._ I fucking hate nice, sexist alphas. Sometimes you think oh hey, I can forget. Then they say something stupid. Like I have to be a good cook ‘cause I’m an omega. Or we’re gonna have so many cute babies. Or I don’t need to work ‘cause I can get an alpha to do it for me.” He glared at Dean. “You never told me to cook or have your babies. But the work stuff?” He giggled. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Even when you’re not _saying_ it, you’re saying it. And it sucks.”

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Cas, you’re drunk. We can have this conversation later.”

“No.” Castiel reached for him with a wavering hand, plucking the neck of his t-shirt. “We’re gonna have it now. It’s a good time. Good time for conversations with pretty people.”

“Help me,” Dean mouthed at Gabriel, who was smothering laughter with his forearm.

“’M serious,” Castiel slurred, staring at Dean. “What’d I ever do to you?”

Dean sighed. “Well, you did just drag me to dinner with your mother,” he reminded the omega.

Castiel waved a hand carelessly. “Yeah, but before that,” he said. “Like when you were calling me shit. At Sandover. Hun and sweetie and stuff. Wow, I coulda been the biggest asshole ever, and you’re calling me sweetie ‘cause I’m an omega. So unprofessional.” He snickered.

“Yeah, okay.” Dean finally caught the bartender’s eye and waved her over. “Hey—” he glanced at her nametag. “Jo. Can I get a water for my friend here?”

The bartender glanced at Castiel. “Sure. That’s probably a good idea,” she said, pulling a glass from beneath the bar.

“Not your friend,” Castiel protested. “Never will be your friend. You just wanna _fuck_ me.” He giggled. “I’m not fucking you, Dean.”

Dean sighed. “I never said you were going to,” he said, leaning heavily against the bar.

“Yeah, but you thought it.” Castiel leaned forward, his lips grazing Dean’s ear, sending shivers of warmth through Dean’s body. “I can tell. Well, you don’t get to, got it?”

Dean leaned back, nearly falling off his stool. “I get it, Cas, okay? I get it. You don’t like me because you think I just want to fuck you.”

“No!” Cas half-yelled, clearly frustrated. “No, that’s not it! I don’t care if you wanna fuck me, I care that you underestimate me! That you, you think you know me better than I know me. Like my mother. Thinks she knows what I want because of some stupid, antiwe—antaqui—old stereotypes.”

“The word you’re looking for is antiquated, bro,” Gabriel piped up. Dean glared at the beta— _now_ he chose to speak, of course.

“That’s the one. Thank you, Gabriel.” Castiel reached past Dean and patted Gabriel on the head.

Dean sighed and took the water from the bartender. “Here, Cas. Drink.”

Castiel shook his head. “Nope,” he said, scowling at Dean. “Don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Will you just drink the damn water?” Dean demanded irritably. “I promise, it’s not because you’re an omega. It’s because you’re drunk, and if you don’t drink something other than alcohol, you’re gonna hate life in the morning.”

Castiel frowned, chewing his lip absently. “Yeah, okay,” he said finally, taking the water. “But you. ‘S not ‘cause you’re an alpha and I’m an omega. ‘Cause that’s bull. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Dean sighed and threw a despairing look at Gabriel. “How long does this normally go on?”

“Oh, it’s just getting started,” Gabriel said with a wicked grin. “I’m waiting for the part where he calls you a stupid, uptight, back-water gorilla who’s probably got a tiny dick since that’s what hot assholes deserve.”

Dean groaned, slumping forward. “I don’t deserve this,” he muttered.

“I’m not here to pass judgment. Just here to watch the fireworks.” Gabriel slapped Dean hard on the back. “Cheer up. I’m pretty sure this is more than he’s ever said to you in his entire life.”

“I think I liked it better when he wasn’t talking to me,” Dean said, glaring. He was pretty sure it was true. It wasn’t like Castiel was talking _to_ him—more like at him, and he wasn’t exactly playing fair.

“I’ll bet,” Cas said, too loudly, “I’ll bet I coulda been the best. Coulda been your boss, and you’d still be like this. Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong, Dean.” He took a sip from the cup, slopping water down his front. “Damn, that’s cold.”

Dean shook his head. “Cas, I’m not having this conversation when you’re drunk.”

Cas scowled. “Whatever,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t have it with me anyways. Probably just pat me on the head, like a dog or somethin’, and tell me to go make you a sandwich.”

“Gabriel,” Dean hissed. “I’m serious. _Help.”_

Gabriel chuckled. “No way,” he replied cheerfully. “This is comedy gold. Shame this place doesn’t have popcorn.”

“’S not funny, Gabe!” Castiel dropped the water cup on the bar, spilling at least half of its remaining contents. “’S not. Least when you’re a dick, it’s funny. This guy, he doesn’t think I can do anything. ‘Cept have sex and babies and stuff.”

“I never said that!” Dean protested.

“Yeah, but you thought it. Really loudly.”

Dean took a deep breath. Yeah, definitely not drunk enough for this. “No, I didn’t,” he said. “Yeah, okay, maybe I didn’t think you were the best choice for an office job. That’s not a crime.”

“But you didn’t know me,” Castiel argued, meeting Dean’s eyes. “You just assumed. ‘S not fair.”

Dean sighed. “Look,” he said, spreading his arms. “We can have this talk later, okay? I doubt you’ll even remember it in the morning.”

Castiel leaned forward, spreading his palms on the bar to steady himself. “I’m not that drunk, Dean,” he whispered.

“Hey barkeep!” Gabriel shouted, catching the bartender’s attention. “My brother here’s cut off, all right?”

“I figured that,” the woman called back, shaking her head.

“Asshole,” Cas muttered.

In the end, Dean and Gabriel had to carry Cas back out to the car. “Put him in the back,” Gabriel said, fishing the keys out of a protesting Cas’s pocket. “I’ll drive. I’ve only had two. You want to go back to Mrs. Singer’s house?”

“Well, my car’s there, so, yeah,” Dean said, nodding and climbing into the passenger’s seat.

He took back everything he’d thought about Castiel being the worst driver of the bunch. Gabriel tailgated the cars ahead of them, sped right up to red lights before slamming on the brakes, and seemed to take stop signs as suggestions more than anything else. By the time they got back to Bobby’s, Dean was amazed that that fancy dinner and those drinks at the bar were still in his stomach, rather than splattered all over the upholstery. “Remind me never to get in a car with you again,” he groaned, letting himself out.

“I’ll have you know that I’m the official designated driver whenever I go out with friends,” Gabriel said primly.

“Yeah, well, it’s probably because they’re too drunk to notice they almost died.” Dean groaned and slammed the door, shaking his head.

He made his way to the front and let himself in without knocking. Christmas carols still played from the radio in the living room, and the tree shone brightly in the corner. Bobby, Jody, and Sam sat around a low folding table, cards in their hands.

“Dean!” Bobby exclaimed as he came over and sat down with them. “Good to see you lived through dinner. Your brother here’s trying to clean me out.”

“Not trying, Bobby. Succeeding,” Sam said with a grin, indicating his chips. “How was it?”

Dean blinked, struggling to find the words. “You remember that Christmas where Dad got drunk, started a fight with Grandpa Samuel, and we almost got evicted for noise violations?” he asked finally.

Sam and Bobby winced, and Jody let out a low “oooh” of sympathy. “That bad?” Sam asked.

“Worse,” Dean said, pulling up a chair and sitting. “I’d rather have that Christmas every year than see any of Cas’s family again. How much to buy in?”

Poker with his family was exactly what he needed, even if Sam swept almost every game and ended up with everyone’s money. It was after midnight by the time Sam and Dean piled back into the car to go home, Sam gloating incessantly over being thirty dollars richer. Thirty whole dollars, what a prize.

“When do you go back to work?” Sam asked sleepily, curling up in the passenger’s seat.

“The twenty-eighth,” Dean replied, fumbling with the radio. He was sick of Christmas carols. The Monkees were playing on one of the few rock stations that wasn’t still spouting holiday music, and he left it there, half-listening.

“Gotcha,” Sam said. “I’m flying back on the thirteenth. Are you going to be able to give me a ride to the airport?”

Dean sighed. He didn’t like to think about Sam going back to school. “Yeah, sure, Sammy. What time?”

“Flight leaves at seven in the evening,” Sam said. “Thanks, Dean.”

“No problem, squirt,” Dean said, reaching over to ruffle Sam’s hair.

Sam knocked his hand away. “Quit it, jerk,” he complained, glaring lazily at Dean.

Dean chuckled. “Bitch,” he said fondly.

Both tired, they stumbled through the door, kicking shoes off and throwing coats down haphazardly in the foyer. “Hey, Dean?” Sam said. “Sorry for giving you such a hard time earlier.”

“Which time?” Dean asked, grinning.

“About going to meet Cas’s family. And romantic comedy tropes.”

Dean snorted. “If you hadn’t, I’d have to go on a manhunt to figure out who kidnapped my _real_ brother,” he teased. “Come on. Bed time for little Sammys.”

“Screw you,” Sam said, punching him lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, keep walking,” Dean said, laughing as Sam lurched off to his room.

Yeah, okay, tonight had sucked overall. But at least at the end of the day, he still had Sam, and Bobby and Jody. He wondered if Gabriel and Cas had gotten back okay. Had Gabriel carried Cas’s drunk ass up to bed, the way Sam had done for him on his 21st birthday? Had they bickered and squabbled playfully, pulling out old inside jokes and teasing each other? He hoped so. Cas might be a stuck-up prick, but with a family like that, Dean could see why. He hoped that there had been _something_ good for Cas tonight, to make up for an otherwise awful day.

Dean chuckled as Sam’s indignant yell sounded through the house, a clear sign that he had figured out the hard way that Dean had wrapped the toilet bowl in saran wrap before leaving the house that morning. Yeah, as far as family went, he could definitely have it worse.

0o0o0o0o0

Getting out of bed to go to work on the twenty-eighth was a chore, to say the least. Dean silenced his alarm clock at least three times before getting out of bed, and as a result, barely had time to shave and comb his hair before running out the door.

The drive to work felt shorter than normal, even as Dean arrived three minutes before nine, just as usual. No one had made coffee yet, to his annoyance, and the office felt disturbingly vacant. Too many people out on vacation with their families, taking time off to have fun and relax. Well, he’d had his fun and relaxation. It was time to get back to work. Even without his coffee.

Dean made it through six back-logged emails before giving up and rising to start up the coffee maker himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t do it often enough at home, but he’d never had to at the office before. It was like coffee just appeared magically in the pot, ready and waiting to keep him going through the day. Dean tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the drink to brew, cutting out precious minutes he could have spent working.

Finally, Dean gave up waiting and turned off the coffee maker just long enough to pour a mug. He left the machine on to finish brewing and returned to his desk. In the fifteen minutes he’d been gone, three people had seen fit to reply to his emails. Could be worse, he reminded himself, sighing. It could have been all of them.

Dean took lunch at his desk, the better to finish clearing out his inbox. The day was nearly over by the time he had responded to all his emails (and responded to the scattered responses), leaving him with precious little time to do any actual work. Oh well. He’d catch up tomorrow.

At five-o-clock on the dot, Dean closed out of his email and threw his suit jacket back over his shoulders. Briefcase in hand, he sped out of his cubicle, his eyes strictly trained on the elevator down the hall. Freedom. What was that old saying—people who just got back from vacation are the ones who need a vacation the most? Something like that. At this point, Dean was pretty sure it was true.

“Winchester!” Dean froze as Adler’s voice sounded loudly in the mostly deserted building. “I need you in my office, pronto.”

Damnit. Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? Dean sighed and turned around, trudging over to his boss’s office.

“Shut the door,” Adler said as Dean walked into the room. “And have a seat.”

Dean nodded, closing the door behind him and sinking into one of the comfortable chairs in front of the desk. Adler was silent for a moment, typing away with flying fingers. The clocked ticked loudly on the wall, every second too noisy in Dean’s ears. Damnit, he just wanted to get home—was that so much to ask?

Finally, Adler looked up at him, his face unreadable. “Well, it’s that time, Dean-o,” he said without preamble. “Need you to pack up your desk before you go.”

Time seemed to freeze. Some part of Dean was aware that he blinked, that he took a deep breath, but it seemed removed, distant. Like it was happening to someone else—not him. Pack up his desk? Dean’s thoughts scattered, his mind racing. What had he done? Adler hadn’t given any indication that his work was slipping, or that his outward attitude had taken a turn for the worse. “What?” he croaked finally. His voice didn’t even sound like his own.

“You heard me, pack up your desk!” A razor’s edge of a smile crossed Adler’s face. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, and you _want_ to stay in the bullpen.”

He was missing something, but what, he couldn’t even begin to imagine. Adler sighed, raising his eyebrows. “You know, that promotion? I gave you my word as a Sandover man, now, didn’t I?”

Promotion? So Adler wasn’t firing him?

Dean took a deep breath, his heart starting up again. “Of course,” he said raggedly, the world coming back into focus around him. “Yeah, I can do that.” Promotion. Not a firing. He wasn’t being let go. He was… He was…

Holy shit. Yeah, it was three months later than promised, but _finally_ Adler was making good on his word. Dean resisted the urge to leap to his feet and whoop for joy.

“Good man, Dean-o!” Adler sounded pleased. “You can move your stuff into Tara’s old office. We’ll have the guys from IT set up your computer tomorrow morning, and I want you in my office first thing to brief you on your new duties, got it? Higher-ups have worked out a raise of, oh, seven percent? It’s a pretty sweet deal you’ve got there, Dean-o.”

Pretty sweet didn’t even begin to cover it, in Dean’s book. Dean could have kissed the man, if the mere idea didn’t make his stomach lurch unpleasantly. “Sounds good,” he said, grinning. “I’ll be here at nine tomorrow.”

“Make it eight,” Adler advised. “Greater power comes with greater responsibility. You’re going to be working longer days from here on out, but hey, that’s the nature of the beast, now, isn’t it?”

Eagerly, Dean nodded. He exchanged a few more sentences with Adler, keeping his composure just long enough to see himself out and into the hall. Once safely back at his desk—his old desk, not his anymore—Dean started laughing, gleefully snatching up papers and pens and the picture of himself and Sammy from the corner of the desk.

He didn’t bother organizing things in his new office. That could wait for the morning. Dean dug his phone out of his pocket on the way out the door, turning the sound back on and calling his brother. “Sammy!” he yelled gleefully as he made his way over to the Impala. “Get your shoes and coat on, bitch. We’re going out to dinner tonight!”

_“What’s got you in such a good mood?”_ Sam asked curiously. _“And quit calling me Sammy. I’m serious.”_

“Yeah, sure kiddo.” Dean laughed as Sam made an indignant noise. “Finally got that promotion Adler’s been promising. It’s official now. And it comes with a raise, too! Freaking finally!”

_“That’s awesome, Dean!”_ Sam sounded genuinely pleased.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Dean grinned and started the car. “Okay. I’ll be home in twenty. I want you ready to run out the door when I get back, got me?”

_“Yeah, sure. Jerk,”_ Sam said fondly. The line went dead before Dean could respond, but that was okay. Nothing was going to kill his good mood—not tonight.

0o0o0o0o0

Keeping up with his increased workload kept Dean busy for several weeks, before he figured out how to properly allot his time. He spent more time in meetings than he’d ever anticipated at this stage in his career, and worked later and later days at the office. That was all right, though. He did regret not having as much time to spend with Sam, but then his brother returned to college, and he didn’t have as much reason to go home early anyways. The increase to his paycheck made the extra time well worth itself, anyways, and he set up a bank account specifically to start putting money away for Sam’s law school. He could do this. He was _golden._

Dean took to spending his weekends at the bar, if for no other reason than to have some sort of social interaction outside the office. Benny complained that he heard more about paperwork and data sets than he’d ever wanted to, but it was all in good-natured fun. Yeah, Dean lived in a state of perpetual exhaustion, and yeah a part of him still felt restless, but this was everything he’d ever wanted. For the first time, it really seemed that he was secure, that Sammy was secure.

Besides, this way Dean was distracted enough that as January crept into February, he hardly even remembered that this would be the first Valentine’s Day in seven years that he had spent alone.

February 14th dawned cold and clear, the lightest smatterings of snow gracing the ground. Dean’s skin felt hot and itchy, and a glance at last year’s calendar reminded him that his rut would be coming along soon. Dean hoped it would hold off until the weekend, but if the restless crawling of his skin was any indication, it might be wise to put in notice with work that he might need to take a rut break. Wonderful. Dean fired off an email to Adler and dressed in his softest work clothes, hoping that he could at least make it through the day.

He got as far as lunch before throwing in the towel and clocking out. Walking past the omega secretary at the front desk, he had to dig his nails into his palms and speed on by as a wave of interested lust swept through him. The car, at least, was safe.

Safe, for the moment; it seemed that the universe was determined to test Dean’s self-control. Not a mile down the road from work, the gas light came on, which knowing his gas tank and mileage meant that he needed to stop _now_ and fill the tank. Dean growled, whipping into the first gas station he saw and parking outside a pump. _Pay Inside,_ a sign on the pump read. Freaking perfect.

The beta behind the register smelled too damn good, and watched him with wary eyes. “Pump 6,” Dean grunted, slapping his card down on the register. “Forty bucks.”

The beta nodded, running his card. “All set, sir,” he said cautiously, passing the card back. Dean snatched it from his hands, inhaling the soft scent of pine needles and running water. Control, he reminded himself. Control. He wasn’t a damn rapist.

Behind him, the door clacked open, bringing with it a waft of honey and roses. Distilled honey and roses. Omega, on the verge of heat no less. Dean growled, turning instinctively to stare, his heart hammering as his gaze sought out a pair of clear blue eyes. Familiar blue eyes. Eyes already blown with lust and heat, tugging at something in Dean. Shit.

Dean’s primal instincts roared up, a consuming need to charge, to tackle the omega to the ground and fuck and knot and claim right there in the store. “Cas,” he growled, taking a step forward and staring at the man before him. Instinctively, he started to reach out and then, remembering himself, took a step backwards. “Get back. I need to get through.”

Castiel’s eyes were huge in his face as he stared at Dean. Wordlessly, the omega took a step back, then another. “Take it easy,” he muttered, pressing back against the wall by the doors.

Dean nodded and took a deep breath, scenting the air. Perfection. Cas’s heat was just beginning, in even earlier stages than Dean’s rut. He could help that along, though. Grab Cas around the waist and throw him into the back of the Impala, tear those sensible slacks from those slender hips and rut into him until they were both coming and moaning and screaming in satisfied completion. It would be so _easy,_ too easy, and so, so satisfying. Dean had never wanted anything more.

But he didn’t. Instead, he forced himself to walk past Cas, slamming down hard on the alpha desire to _fuckmatebreed._ He was better than that, even as his pants pulled uncomfortably tight against his straining erection, filling him with the urge to take the omega _now_ , consequences be damned. Just fill up the car and go home. It would be quick. It would be okay.

Dean filled up the gas tank and slammed the door shut, his hands trembling as he replaced the pump. Cas hadn’t left the store yet, he noted distantly. He glanced through the gas station window, realizing blearily that the beta was no longer behind the counter. Cas was nowhere to be seen either. Strange. A cold, hard knot of something unidentifiable settled in Dean’s stomach. Before he even had time to question his own actions, he found himself making his way back into the building, the bell above the door tinkling as he pulled it open.

He could still smell the two scents, beta clearness and sweet heated omega. There was something else, though. Dean took a deep breath through his nose, scenting the air again. Unease? Distress? Even fear? He growled, following the scent through the aisles, stopping dead as he found the source of the smell.

Castiel stood pressed against the wall, his hair sweat-plastered to his forehead, hands clenched into fists at his side. The beta stood close to him, too close, an arm pressed against the wall beside him, locking him in. “Come on, it’s not safe for you to be out here alone,” the beta said, his voice low and possessive. “I’ve called my manager. She’s on her way to take over. I’ll drive you home when she gets here, all right?” Dean stiffened at the beta’s smug, winning words.

“That’s not necessary,” Castiel said, his voice strained. “Let me through. I can get home on my own.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the beta said. “You smell too good to go out there alone. Don’t you know that? Alphas are gonna snap you right up. You’re safer with me.”

Dean growled, taking a step forward. “Cas,” he hissed, staring at the omega.

The scent of distress sharpened, morphing into something that might have been fear. The beta glanced over at Dean, an ugly smirk crossing his face. “See what I mean?” he said. “Looks like you’ve got one already. Come on, let me take care of you.”

Dean snarled, shoving past the beta and seizing Cas by the shoulder. _Fuckmatebreedclaim_ mine. His omega. Not some damn beta’s. “You need to get out of here. Now,” he growled, wrenching Cas forward and pulling him towards the door.

“Let go!” Castiel shouted, struggling against him. The fear-stink sharpened, intensifying into terror. “Dean, get off me! Please!”

“Not going to hurt you,” Dean panted, manhandling Cas outside and dragging him towards the Impala. He wouldn’t. He’d never hurt him.

“Help!” Castiel shouted, clawing at Dean’s hand. Dean growled, throwing open the driver’s side door and pushing Cas over the seat into the passenger’s side. “No. Dean, no, please!”

Dean strapped himself into the seat and turned the car on, silencing Cas with a low growl. “Stop acting like I’m gonna hurt you,” he snarled. “That douchebag back there’s the one who was gonna hurt you.” _Mine. Mine. Mine._ The idea of that beta putting his hands on Cas made Dean feel physically ill. He longed to drag Cas back into the store and knot him in front of the beta, staking his claim for all to see. “Where do you live?” he asked instead. Control. He still had control.

Castiel shook his head, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Take me back,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please. Just take me back to my car. I won’t press charges or anything.”

Some distant part of Dean realized exactly how this must look to Cas, and probably to the beta back at the gas station. And the gas station’s security cameras. Damnit. He’d deal with that later. “Fine. Don’t tell me,” he snapped, speeding off towards Bobby’s. Jody could call Gabriel, Gabriel could pick Cas up, and if the cops showed up, well, nothing had happened, and they couldn’t possibly charge him with getting an omega in heat to safety.

Castiel was hyperventilating, nearly sobbing, by the time Dean pulled into Bobby’s yard. The scent of his terror and distress flooded the car, taking the edge off of Dean’s rut, pulling to the forefront his alpha need to protect and provide. “Come on, get out,” Dean said roughly, hauling Castiel out of the car. “See? Bobby’s. Jody’ll call Gabriel. Told you I wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

Castiel quieted slightly, staring around the yard with too-bright eyes. Some of the fear-scent dissipated, though Dean could still smell distress and misery mixed in with heat. Dean bit his lip as the shift in scent brought his own need roaring back. _Protect mate. Breed mate. Make mate happy._

_Mate?_

Dean would worry about that later. For now, he helped Castiel up the steps, his vision wavering before him as need coursed through his body. He slammed his fist into the door, channeling some of his frustration into the blows. “Bobby!” he shouted. “Jody!”

The door swung open. “Dean?” Jody asked, staring at him. _“Castiel?_ What—” She sniffed, scenting the air. “Oh. Oh my god.” With lightning speed she reached out and grabbed Castiel by the shirt, pulling him inside, away from Dean. Something inside Dean roared in protest, but he clamped down on it, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Dean, upstairs,” Jody ordered. “Take the guest room. I’ll take care of Castiel.”

It took all of Dean’s strength to tear himself away from Cas and lock himself in the guest room. Dimly, he heard Jody’s voice, words indistinct, and a few minutes later might have heard Gabriel, but his own hand on his cock was too loud for him to make anything out clearly. He could still smell Cas, tantalizing and sweet, and the knowledge that the omega was _right there_ was almost too much for him. Nothing between them but a door. Dean panted, pumping furiously at his cock, but his knot refused to swell, refused to provide him with even a few blessed minutes of relief.

Finally, the scent faded. Castiel had left. Something in Dean felt like it was crumbling at that knowledge; his knot swelled beneath his fingers and he shuddered through the least satisfying orgasm of his life, staring miserably at the door. Cas was gone. That hurt. Why did it hurt?

Why did he even _care?_


	7. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel stops by and gives Dean some perspective on how his previous behavior had appeared to Cas. Determined to meet Cas again on his own terms, Dean leaves his comfort zone and visits Cas at church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit shorter than I've been aiming for, but it seemed like this is a good stopping point. The next one should go up soon!
> 
> I don't think I have to warn for anything that hasn't come up in previous chapters. Discussion of events from last chapter, I suppose.

Dean passed his rut in Bobby’s guest room, alternating between furious masturbation and staring miserably out the window. Bobby and Jody stopped by several times in-between waves of furious need to drop off meals and books, but for the most part, they left him alone. Dean wasn’t sure if he was glad for the solitude or not. It gave him too much time to think, to wonder after Cas. He hoped Gabriel had gotten him home okay. He hoped that the omega was passing his heat safely, home with someone trustworthy, not out and about where someone could—well. The very idea made him shudder.

Dean was on the tail end of his rut when Bobby stopped by to let him know that he had a visitor. By that point, Dean was completely exhausted, drained and fucked-out and at a loss for what to do next. A glance at his phone told him that it was Friday afternoon. Huh. He hadn’t realized that so much time had passed.

Of all the people to be waiting for him in Bobby’s living room, Gabriel was one of the last people Dean had expected. “Ah, there’s the alpha monkey,” Gabriel said, rising from the couch and holding out a hand to Dean. “I wanted to thank you for getting my brother home safe. And, you know. Not spiriting him away to some kinky sex-torture dungeon or something.”

Dean scowled and crossed his arms across his chest. “Why the hell would that even cross your mind?” he demanded angrily.

Gabriel shrugged. “Gotta say, it was my first thought when Mrs. Singer called me to say that you’d showed up here in a rut, with my hysterical in-heat brother. Thought I was going to have to run you through with a steak knife about fifty times. But hey, all’s well that ends well.” Nimble fingers flew over a lollipop wrapper; with a contented sigh, Gabriel popped the sucker into his mouth. “Cassie says thanks too, by the way. Think he also wanted to apologize for thinking the worst of you, but I’m not so sure he should. Yah know. Circumstances as they were.”

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “I’m glad he’s safe,” he said after a short pause. “I just wish I knew why he freaked out on me so badly.”

“Ah. That.” Gabriel popped the sucker from his mouth. “Lemme see if I can clear this up for you. First, I want you to pretend you’re an omega.”

Dean blinked. “Huh?” he said finally.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Pretend you’re an omega,” he repeated. “You’ve had slightly irregular heat cycles since high school. You know how to handle it when heat comes on out of the blue. Sure, it’s scary as all heck when some alpha or beta tries to back you into a corner and have their merry way with you, but you know all those sensitive places where you can hit to hurt.”

Okay. Dean guessed that he could see where Gabriel was going with this. “Right,” he said, nodding slowly.

“Now imagine that some big, intimidating alpha in rut comes up to you.” Gabriel slurped on his sucker. “This big, muscley alpha in rut grabs you before you can fight back, drags you off to his car, and demands to know where you live. Then, instead of letting you go, he drives off with you to God knows where. You see how that could maybe be a little frightening?”

He could, when Gabriel put it that way. He could, and that was the problem. “I was never going to hurt him,” Dean said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m not that kind of guy.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I actually believe you, considering you, you know, _didn’t_ rape my brother. You think Cassie had any way of knowing that?”

Dean looked up, staring at the beta. “I told him I wasn’t going to hurt him,” he said finally.

“That can mean a lot of things.” Dean had never seen Gabriel look so serious. “Yeah, in your case, you meant that you were going to take him somewhere safe and get him in contact with me. Someone else, it could just as easily mean that you were going to be gentle about holding him down and fucking him. And no offense, Dean-o, but if some alpha in rut did something like that to me? Even as a beta, who doesn’t have heats? I’d automatically assume they meant the second option.”

Dean’s skin crawled. Gabriel was right. If he’d seen that as an outsider, he’d have assumed the exact same thing. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“No harm, no foul.” Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. “Any-who. I don’t expect this’ll happen again, but just in case it does? I want you to have my number. You know, so you can call me directly, instead of scaring my brother half to death.”

“Sure,” Dean said, handing over his phone. He tapped his foot impatiently as Gabriel programed in his contact information and passed back the phone.

“So,” Gabriel said, grinning at him. “Got any weekend plans, or can I do the honors of kidnapping you? Ruby’s stint with community service is finished, and it’s me and Cassie’s weekend at the soup kitchen again. We’re dying over there, I tell you, dying.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Got no one else you can call?” he asked coolly.

Gabriel shrugged. “No one else that’s quite as fun,” he replied cheerfully. “I like watching you and Cassie stumble awkwardly around each other. Makes for great entertainment. Especially now that I’m about ninety-eight percent certain you’re just a generic meat-head, not actually a threat to my baby bro. Whaddaya say, Dean-o? Please?”

Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve got to be at the office. Try to catch up on the work I missed,” he said slowly.

“That’s cool. Just get there for dinner rush and help us close up. Great!” Gabriel said as Dean opened his mouth. “It’s settled. See you tomorrow!”

“I didn’t agree to this!” Dean yelled after the beta as he moved towards the hall.

“But you’ll show up anyways!”

Great. Dean groaned and slumped down onto the couch. He had no idea how he was going to face Cas after their last meeting. The mere idea made him feel very uncomfortable. Especially considering the thoughts he’d had around the omega, and the desolation he’d felt when the man had left.

Damnit. Dean sighed and picked up his phone. He’d call Sam. Yeah, his brother might be naïve and innocent, might not usually know what the hell he was talking about, but he could just disregard any bad advice.

Sam picked up on the third ring. _“This had better be good,”_ he said without pre-amble. _“I have to go in twenty minutes.”_

“Go where?” Dean asked, sinking back against the couch.

_“Um.”_ He could hear Sam moving around on the other end of the line. _“I’ve got a date. With my friend Jess.”_

“Yeah?” Dean asked, half-listening. “Good for you, Sammy. You be careful, got it?”

Sam exhaled.   _“Why’d you call me, Dean?”_ he asked.

Dean sighed. “It’s a little awkward,” he said slowly. “I might have run into Cas when my rut was starting. When he was going into heat.”

_“What?”_ Sam sounded startled. _“Dean—you didn’t—”_

“No!” Dean yelped, offended. “Jesus, Sammy, you seriously think I’d do that?”

_“Sorry,”_ Sam said. _“Not exactly a good opening, though.”_

Dean sighed, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t _do_ anything. I took him to Bobby’s and had Jody call Gabriel. I’m not some kind of mindless animal, Sammy.”

_“Okay,”_ Sam said. _“So what’s the issue?”_

Dean grimaced, though he knew his brother couldn’t see him. “Gabriel asked me to volunteer with them again,” he said slowly. “I feel awkward about it. Especially…” God, he couldn’t even say it without burning in shame.

_“Especially what?”_ Sam asked.

Dean sighed. “When I was around him, I couldn’t stop thinking of Cas as my mate,” he admitted, flushing.

_“Oh!”_ Sam actually laughed at that. _“Dean, didn’t you pay any attention in sex ed?”_

“Yes. Maybe.” All right, so maybe he’d tuned his teachers out. It wasn’t like they were going to tell him anything that porn and Dad’s magazines hadn’t taught him years ago.

Sam chuckled. _“Hormones synch up in mated pairs,”_ he said. _“You know, so alphas go into rut when their omegas go into heat, and beta cycles match up with their partner. You know, a stamina thing. Alpha ruts developed to keep up with omega fertility cycles, and betas reach the height of their cycle when their mate is in heat or rut, or just at the height of their mate’s cycle. You seriously didn’t learn this?”_

Dean scowled. “Maybe I zoned out once or twice,” he said petulantly. “So that’s all that was? My rut hitting at the same time as Cas’s heat?”

_“Yeah, probably_ ,” Sam said, sounding amused. _“It makes sense. You were in rut when a nearby omega was in heat, your body just assumed you two were mated. It’s not uncommon. Any high-schooler could tell you that,” he teased._

Well, good. Dean had been starting to worry that it was one of those mythical ‘true mate’ situations, the plot of every romance novel ever written. “Good,” he said, relieved. “’Cause whenever I mate, it’s not gonna be with someone like Cas. I was kinda worried there.”

_“Uh-huh. Sure.”_ Sam still sounded way too entertained by the situation. _“Was that all?”_

“Sorta.” Dean sighed. “Still. That aside, how do I interact with him?”

_“Like you always do?”_ Sam suggested. _“I mean, maybe without going caveman on him.”_

Dean growled. “Okay, I’ve never gone all caveman on Cas,” he said irritably.

_“Fine, whatever. Just be normal, okay? Maybe a little nicer than normal.”_

Okay, Sam was starting to go into lecture mode. “Great, thanks. Bye, Sammy,” he said, glaring at the wall opposite him.

_“It’s_ Sam. _”_

Dean ended the call rather than respond. Okay, hormone cycles. He could work with that. Nothing weird at all. Good.

He’d see Cas tomorrow, and everything would be fine.

0o0o0o0o0

This was definitely not fine.

Dean couldn’t even put his finger on _exactly_ why (where to even start, really?) he felt weird around Cas. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he couldn’t so much as look at the omega without remembering how his heat had smelled, or the fantasies that he had clung to during his rut. Maybe it was the fact that Cas avoided his eyes, even when they stood side by side serving food. He wished he knew for certain. Then maybe he could take some sort of step to fix it.

Dean’s dreams that night, and the next several after, were filled with blue eyes and dark hair and sweet, delicate scents. Exactly what he didn’t need while devoting his life to work. Castiel was swiftly turning into an obsession, and one he really didn’t need. He’d tried avoiding the man. He’d tried working around him. Hell, he’d even tried working _with_ him, to no avail. At the end of his rope, Dean tried the only option he could think of.

The next weekend, he went to church.

Even in the crowded building, he could pick out Castiel’s scent. It was intoxicating, distracting Dean from the sermon and the press of people around him. Not that Dean particularly minded. He’d never been a very religious person himself. But apparently Castiel was, and if Dean had to go out of his comfort zone to see the omega on his own terms, then so be it. He was done with this weird avoidance policy, with running into Castiel at random. If he couldn’t escape those chance meetings, then he could at least engineer one of his own.

Dean lingered in the surprisingly bright lobby after the service, picking up and reading the surrounding church pamphlets as an excuse. He knew Jody saw him, when he accidentally met her gaze on the way out the door; the beta raised her eyebrows at him and stared in such a way that he knew that she was fully aware that he wasn’t here for religion. Fortunately, no one else he knew was here—no one except Castiel and Gabriel.

Dean was about ready to give up and leave when Castiel’s familiar scent wafted out into the lobby. Dean looked up from over the top of a pamphlet _(The Four Gospels and You)_ and stared, watching Cas at a distance. He didn’t wear the slavish, blissed-out look that Dean tended to expect from people who’d just left church. Maybe he’d been watching too many movies about cults, or something. Castiel looked pretty normal, bright-eyed and engaged as he stopped to chat with the preacher, Gabriel hanging back behind him. Then Gabriel glanced over, and Dean knew he was caught.

“Dean-o!” Gabriel practically yelled, grabbing Castiel’s arm and physically dragging him over. “You’ve found religion? Praise the Lord—hallelujah.” He winked.

Well, the whole purpose of wasting his Sunday morning _had_ been to talk to Cas, and here he was. Dean pasted a smile on his face. “Had literally nothing else to do. Woke up early,” he said by way of explanation.

“God appreciates it,” Gabriel said solemnly, his eyes twinkling. “Whaddaya think, Cassie? Is there hope for this heathen after all?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Gabriel, we all know you only go to church for the free doughnuts afterwards. You’re one to talk,” he said disapprovingly.

Gabriel clutched at his chest with mock-horror. “Cassie, how could you say such a thing? I’m a God-fearing soul getting right for judgment day! Also, doughnuts. Okay, fine, you’re right. It’s the doughnuts.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and turned his gaze to Dean. “I never would have pegged you for the religious type,” he said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m not. Generally,” Dean said, shifting uncomfortably. “But it doesn’t hurt, when I’m already up. Wouldn’t have pegged you for the religious type either.”

A tiny smile graced Castiel’s lips. “By my family’s standards, I’m not. They do not even consider this community a proper church.”

“Come on,” Gabriel said, tugging at Castiel’s sleeve. “Doughnuts. Before they’re all gone. Dean, you can come with.”

Dean smiled and followed Gabriel and Castiel to one of the rooms adjacent to the lobby. Forget doughnuts—there was coffee. Dean gratefully poured himself a cup.

“Black, no sugar please, darling.” Dean nearly dropped his cup as Castiel came up behind him. He spun around, staring at the omega, who smirked at him.

“You just…” He blinked. “Did you just make a joke?”

Castiel shrugged. “Perhaps,” he replied. “About that coffee?”

Dean was almost tempted to tell Castiel to get his own damn cup, since he was right there… But hell. Maybe he deserved it. Dean shook his head and poured Castiel a cup, handing it off with a small smile.

“So,” Castiel said, sipping the coffee. “You woke up early and just ‘decided’ to go to church?”

Dean sighed. Yeah, not his smoothest excuse. “Okay, you caught me,” he admitted. “I wanted to talk to you. We got off on the wrong foot, and it was partly my fault.”

“Partly?” Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose that’s a start.”

Dean scowled at him, but there was no heat behind his gaze. “Thing is, Cas, I’ve got my beliefs and values, which you obviously don’t share. But you’re not a bad guy, not really. I’d kinda like to start over with you.”

Castiel watched him over the edge of his coffee cup, his face unreadable. “I suppose you’re not a bad guy either,” he admitted. “I’m not opposed to starting over with you, but I am not going to change or censor myself to fit your idea of what I should be. And if you disrespect me, even unintentionally, I _will_ tear you a new one, and not just verbally.”

Dean nearly dropped his coffee, a bark of laughter ripping from his throat. “Damn, Cas, don’t hold back,” he gasped. “Tell me how you really feel.”

Castiel frowned. “I just did.”

“It’s an expression,” Dean said. “Okay. I can work with that. So, fresh start?” He stuck out his hand. “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you.”

A small smile graced Castiel’s lips; he reached out and shook Dean’s hand. “Castiel Milton,” he said, “and it’s nice to meet you too, Dean.”


	8. Two Steps Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The change in Dean's relationship with Castiel gives him insight and emotional access he never anticipated, or wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of sexual harassment and inappropriate workplace dynamics. Major, red-flag warning. Nothing is shown, but it is discussed. The good news (relatively speaking) is, the rest of the chapter is all slice-of-life fluff, which hopefully makes up for that.

Dean couldn’t stop looking at his phone over the next several days, for no other reason than to smile at Castiel’s name in his contacts. It was definitely a start—a good one. He and Cas sent each other tentative texts, nothing serious, exchanging pleasantries and polite conversation. Castiel’s texts were always meticulous and to the point, with perfect grammar and spelling. He didn’t seem to grasp the concept of emoticons, which hardly surprised Dean. They hardly seemed like Cas’s style.

On the first of the month, Sandover and Roman held a joint meeting to discuss the future of their companies’ joint goals and projects. Dean sat across from Castiel at the long meeting table, smiling whenever he caught the omega’s eye. Castiel had definitely proven him wrong, he’d given him that. This time six months ago, he’d have been certain that Cas wouldn’t last half this long at a company like Roman. Yet here he sat, clearly entrenched and important enough to have earned a seat with the major players. Yeah, Dean had definitely misjudged him.

They made plans to meet up for drinks after the meeting, when Castiel invited Dean to join him and some friends at the bar. Dean recognized the red-haired Charlie, who’d brought along a familiar looking brunette omega named Dorothy. Dean had to admit that it was fairly shocking to learn that Charlie and Dorothy were a mated pair, but he kept his mouth shut. He’d known that Castiel ran with a progressive crowd—what other kind of crowd would the man spend time with?—and for all that he couldn’t begin to fathom how two omegas would work as a couple, he had to admit that the two seemed at least as compatible as half of the alpha-beta or alpha-omega couples he knew.

Even Meg, who joined them about halfway through the night, didn’t put a damper on the mood. Sure, she watched Dean closely, with clear disapproval, but after a few muttered words with Cas, she seemed content to keep silent about his presence. Benny seemed pleased to see Dean out with friends who weren’t Sam; he bought the entire group a round of drinks on the house, and by the time they left, they were all pleasantly tipsy.

It was a far cry from Dean’s previous relationship with Cas. Dean found that as he put aside his assumptions about the man, Castiel proved to be quick-witted and entertaining, certainly not the lazy, indolent omega he’d originally assumed him to be. Dean would never say it out loud, but it was an eye opener. If Cas had been an alpha, Dean would probably have hit it off with him right away. Well, better late than never.

It was weird to be friends like this with an omega, but Dean wouldn’t trade it for anything.

0o0o0o0o0

May brought Sam’s graduation, and with that a harrowing and unpleasant plane ride out to California. Watching his little brother cross the stage to receive his diploma made the trip worth it, though, and when Sam was called up as having graduated with honors, Dean thought he would burst with pride. The entire trip hadn’t been easy—working through high school and college to pay for his own schooling, then turning right around to pay for Sam’s—but it was almost over. Between the money Dean had put away and the scholarships Sam had earned, his baby brother was all set to start law school in the fall. It was a nice feeling, he thought, ruffling Sam’s hair when the new graduates were released from the auditorium. A load off his shoulders, finally.

Sam teased him the entire plane ride back, of course. For once, Dean decided to let the playful ribbing slide, allowing his brother his moment of glory. Kid had certainly worked hard enough to earn it, that was for certain. And there would only be a few more trips like it, a thought that eased Dean’s rolling stomach through several hours in the air.

Dean didn’t fight Sam this time around when Sam insisted on getting a summer job. Besides, working at Gabriel’s sweet shop was a lot safer than working at another gas station. And considering that Gabriel had branched out to include baked goods along with his candy—well, Dean had no problem in shamelessly using Sam’s employee discount to buy pie.

All things considered, the summer was shaping up rather nicely, to Dean’s relief. Sam worked days, this time, which meant that Dean could actually spend time with his brother every night when he came home from work. Sometimes that meant that he took Sam out to the bar with him, but other times it just meant lazy evenings doing chores and watching movies and playing video games. Life, Dean decided, was pretty sweet.

Of course, it just couldn’t last.

It was a sunny Thursday at the beginning of June when Dean received a distressing call from Cas to his work phone. _“What time do you get off work?”_ the omega asked as soon as Dean picked up the phone.

Dean frowned, glancing at his inbox. It wasn’t too full. “Probably five-thirty or six,” he said. “Why?”

_“Meet me at Harvelle’s Roadhouse. I am going to need a driver.”_ The phone line clicked dead before Dean could respond.

That didn’t sound good. Dean rushed through his remaining work, but it was still slightly after six before he left the office. He fired off a quick explanation to Sam and drove, parking the Impala outside the dusty old bar where he’d spent Christmas night. Leaving his jacket and tie in the car, Dean squared his shoulders and entered the bar.

It wasn’t hard to find Cas, one of three people in the building, bartender included. Dean made his way over to the omega and sat, throwing him a concerned look. Castiel looked to be well on his way to getting drunk; he slumped over the table, stirring his beer with his index finger. “Cas?” Dean asked tentatively. “What’s up?”

Castiel shrugged, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. “Got fired,” he said shortly. “Saw it coming. Not like there’s anyone to file a complaint to when the head of the company himself is that determined to get into your pants.”

Shit. Dean’s mind flashed back to the Christmas party all those months ago. To the way Dick Roman had stood, chest almost touching Castiel’s, essentially pressing the omega into the wall. “Shit,” Dean said, for lack of any words that could make it better. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Yeah. Well.” Castiel picked up his beer but did not drink. “He’d just been hinting around before. Could’ve handled that. But today…” He grimaced. “Pulled me into his office and told me to suck his dick or I was fired. Know what I did?”

“What?” Dean asked warily.

Castiel snorted. “Grabbed his hand, sucked one of his fingers, then bit it. Told him that was all the dick I was sucking, and if he tried to put anything else in my mouth, I’d bite that too.”

Dean’s jaw dropped; he stared at Cas for a long moment, scrambling to come up with a reply. “Well, don’t let anyone tell you you don’t have clever responses,” he said finally.

“Yeah, well. Clever responses don’t pay the rent.” Castiel lifted his beer to his lips and took a long drink. “Not sure what to do now. Obviously, I’m not getting a good reference from Roman. And I can’t move back in with my parents. Would rather shoot myself and be done with it.”

Dean motioned the bartender over. “Get him something strong,” he said quietly, smiling at the older woman.

“Sure thing,” the woman said, casting a sympathetic look at Cas.

“It’s just not fair!” Castiel burst out. “I was good at my job. Really, _really_ good. Why should I have to pay because some knothead’s decided he can’t control himself? I just wanted to do my job, maybe get promoted a few times, and actually make something of myself. Despite what my parents say. Despite what all my college counselors, my old priest, all those people said. And I was making it! I was doing a lot better than most people my age, so why—why did this _happen_ to me?” He turned to face Dean, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening. “Why me?” he repeated, his voice cracking.

_Because you’re an omega,_ Dean thought, and was surprised to find that the words made his skin crawl. Yeah, Cas was an omega. Yeah, these things happened to omegas—it wasn’t anything new or surprising. But that didn’t make it okay. Dean swallowed hard and clapped Cas on the shoulder, rubbing his back lightly. “Because people suck,” he said instead. “It’s not your fault.”

Castiel huffed wryly. “Yeah, I can put that on job applications,” he said bitterly. “Why’d you get fired from your last job? Because people suck.”

Dean frowned, thinking hard. “You could apply at Sandover?” he suggested. “You’ve got work history there. They hire back interns a lot.”

Castiel shook his head. “I doubt they’d take me,” he said. “Not while they’re partnered with Roman.”

He had a point. “You could file a police report,” he said. “For sexual harassment.”

Castiel snorted. “Yeah, that’d work,” he said sarcastically. “Some freshly fired accountant files a report against the CEO of Roman Industries. I’d be laughed out of the police station.”

Dean frowned. “But they have to take your report.”

“No, they don’t.” Castiel scowled. “It’s not worth it. Even if I filed a report, it wouldn’t go anywhere. And I don’t want to put up with that kind of scrutiny anyways. It’d be a waste of time.”

“Well, you have to do _something,”_ Dean argued.

“Like what?” Castiel demanded. “Filing a report won’t get me anywhere. All I can do is start filling out applications and hope that I get hired before I run through my savings account.”

Dean grimaced. “You could move in with Gabriel?” he suggested.

“Gabriel lives in a one-bedroom apartment, and my mother knows the address,” Castiel replied, shaking his head. “Besides, I know my brother. I’d kill him by the end of the first week, and I am not his life insurance beneficiary.”

Dean had to hold back a laugh at that. “Well, you’ll figure something out,” he said. The bartender placed Castiel’s drink down in front of him, and Dean pushed the glass towards the omega. “Come on. If I’ve seen one thing from you, it’s that you don’t let anything hold you back.”

Castiel sighed and picked up the glass. “I suppose you’re right,” he muttered. “Something will turn up.”

0o0o0o0o0

Castiel’s texts to Dean became less frequent after that night. When he did contact him, the slip in spelling and proper grammar suggested that he had been drinking heavily. Dean didn’t know what to do; a worried call to Gabriel assured him that Cas was fine, relatively speaking, but Dean wasn’t so sure. It seemed to him that Cas was coming unglued, and Dean couldn’t blame him.

_-Would it be acceptable toapply for 13 jobsat one compamy?-_

_-foind a list of roman;s rivals. Wisg me lick.-_

_-Maybe I should just br a sytipper.-_

It made Dean’s chest ache, reading the texts and knowing that he couldn’t do anything to help. He called Jody, who said that Cas had abruptly stopped going to church. And while Dean occasionally saw Meg or Charlie out at the bars, none of them had seen the omega since the night he was fired.

There was no other way to put it. Dean was worried.

Calling Cas never seemed to result in anything. He would get the man’s voicemail, or Cas would pick up and instantly end the call. Eventually, Dean decided that the man just didn’t want to hear from him. The thought burned.

After more than a month, he finally got a coherent text from Castiel. _–Found a job. It doesn’t pay very well. I cannot afford to stay in my current apartment. I’ve found somewhere cheaper. Would you be willing to help me move?-_

And that was how Dean found himself at Castiel’s apartment for the first time, the trunk and backseat of the Impala cleared to make way for boxes.

Castiel’s apartment was small, two bedrooms and one bathroom, but it was neat and clean and in a good part of town. Dean hoped that when the omega said he’d found somewhere cheaper, he didn’t mean somewhere in a less savory area. The majority of the place was packed into boxes, leaving the rooms stripped bare and empty looking. Cas himself seemed to be holding it together fairly well, though he was paler and thinner than Dean remembered. Dressed in a pair of plaid sweatpants and a grey T-shirt, his hair mussed, he looked to have just woken up, though he told Dean he had been packing for hours.

They packed in silence, for the most part. Occasionally, Dean thought he saw flashes of sadness cross over Castiel’s face, but he supposed he couldn’t blame the man. The thought of having to leave his home for the same reasons as Cas was unthinkable, horrifying. Cas was probably holding it together better than Dean would have.

Finally, the entire place was in boxes, and all the furniture was stripped down for easy transport. Dean silently helped Castiel cart his belongings down to their cars, and drove behind him all the way to Castiel’s new apartment.

His first thought was that if Castiel’s old home had been relatively small, his new one was positively tiny. One bedroom, combined kitchen and living room, a single small bathroom, equipped with a standing shower and too small to hold a real bathtub. Cracked linoleum covered the floor, and the painted walls were chipped and peeling. Organizing the furniture to fit was a puzzle and a half, and as Dean stacked boxes onto the couch and kitchen table, he wondered how all of Castiel’s belongings could possibly fit.

The sun had set by the time they finished bringing everything inside and setting up the basic furniture plan. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Castiel asked, the first words he had spoken in hours. “I’m afraid I don’t have much, but I should be able to whip something up.”

Dean glanced at the pantry, which he had just stocked with meager amounts of rice, beans, and bread. “How about we order pizza?” he suggested. “My treat,” he added as Castiel opened his mouth to respond.

Castiel sighed. “Thank you,” he said quietly, avoiding Dean’s gaze. “That’s very generous.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Dean said, pulling out his phone. “Couple of pizzas and some soda, good old-fashioned moving food. What do you want?”

He ended up placing an order for two meat-lover’s pizzas and a few two-liters of coke. Castiel pulled out his wallet, undoubtedly to pay Dean for his share of the food, and Dean cut him off with a pointed look. “What part of ‘my treat’ did you miss?” he asked. “I’ve got this one.”

Castiel looked like he wanted to argue, but he stuffed his wallet back into his pocket. “So,” Dean said, flopping down on one of the few chairs which wasn’t stacked with boxes. “What’s the new job?”

Castiel grimaced. “Assistant manager at a convenience store,” he said after a long pause. “It could be much worse. There is a sort of quiet dignity in that sort of labor, even though it’s not exactly what I thought I’d be doing at this point in my life.”

The idea of Cas working at a convenience store set off all sorts of alarm bells in Dean’s head, but he didn’t say anything. Cas had proven multiple times that he could take care of himself, and it sure as hell beat working for a skeevy guy like Roman. “Could be a lot worse,” he agreed.

The pizza came, delivered by a scrawny teenage alpha. Dean paid and set the pizza on the table, leaving one of the bottles of coke out on the table. He and Cas didn’t speak as they ate, and the silence hung heavily over the box-strewn room.

Finally, Castiel set his half-eaten slice of pizza down inside the box. “I’d like to apologize for being so reticent as of late,” he said, his words a welcome relief from the uncomfortable quiet. “It wasn’t fair to you.”

Dean swallowed a mouthful of pizza and dropped his crust onto the table. “Yeah, well, I can’t really be too pissed about it,” he said, shrugging. “Not gonna lie, I was worried, but I get it. You were stressed.”

Castiel huffed. “That’s putting it mildly,” he said. “But yes. I was stressed, and I was very poorly off. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that, but it seemed that every morning when I checked my phone, I had sent you some sort of regrettable drunken text.” He smiled wryly. “So if I have to have one person know just how out of sorts I am, well, you’re the one who already knows.”

Dean shrugged. “I’m not judging,” he said, taking a swig of coke from the bottle.

Castiel was silent for a long moment. “That means a lot,” he said finally.

“Cas, what happened to you was crap. We both know it. You’re allowed to take a while to deal with it, you know?” Dean said. “Just try not to drop off the face of the earth again.

“I know,” Castiel said. “Believe me, Gabriel gave me an earful when I finally answered his calls.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, sounds like the bastard,” he said, shaking his head.

There wasn’t much to do after finishing the first pizza. Dean carried the half-empty bottle of coke to the fridge while Castiel put away the leftovers. “I should get home,” Dean said, glancing at Cas. “Sammy’ll have gotten back from work by now.”

Castiel nodded. “Of course. Tell your brother I say hello,” he said seriously.

Dean agreed and slipped his shoes on, crossing the small room with only a few long strides. “See you around, Cas,” he said, raising a hand in farewell.

“Dean, wait.” Dean paused as Castiel came over. “Your keys,” the man said, holding them out.

“Thanks.” Dean’s fingers brushed against Castiels as he took the keys from the man. Warmth fizzled through his body at the unexpected contact. He smiled weakly, tucking the keys into his pocket. “You take care, all right?”

“I will.” Castiel fidgeted, glancing up at Dean. “You do the same.”

Dean nodded and stepped forward, impulsively wrapping his arms around the smaller man. Castiel stiffened, and Dean nearly pulled away, and then Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, his hands resting flat on his back.

Holding Castiel felt right somehow, even in just a hug between friends. Dean took a deep breath, inhaling the other man’s sweet, omega scent. He knew he should say something, thoughts and emotions bubbling in his head, but the words wouldn’t come. Dean sighed, squeezing Cas gently, allowing his head to drop onto the other man’s shoulder.

A muffled noise sounded near Dean’s ear, and he drew back, his heart pounding. Castiel stared at him with wide blue eyes, his expression at once startled and confused and somehow, amazingly, content. Dean swallowed hard and licked his suddenly dry lips. “Yeah. I’ll just… See you, Cas.” His stomach twisting with an odd combination of pleasure and tension, he turned, half-fleeing out into the hall.

It was a hug, nothing more. Between friends. Just like the times when he and Benny would clap each other on the back, or when he would drag a protesting Sam into his arms and ruffle his hair. Okay, so Castiel’s scent was _way_ more tantalizing than either of theirs, but he was an unrelated omega. It was to be expected. And if Dean thought Cas was attractive, well, it was still just a friendly hug. _Get it together, Winchester._ Nothing weird about it.

After all, he knew Cas by now. The man was friends with several alphas, platonic friends. And Dean, despite everything he’d been raised to believe, had managed to find friendship with the omegas in Castiel’s typical crowd. And his relationship with Cas, against all odds, was nothing more than friendly. Just a hug. Just a friendly hug.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so relieved to get into his car and turn the volume up all the way. Driving was a welcome distraction, after all. Not that he needed to be distracted. There was nothing going on, nothing to worry about, move on, nothing to see here.

Dean did not dare to think that maybe he was lying to himself.


	9. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One minute Dean has convinced himself that he and Cas are just friends; the next, they're planning their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's possible that I actually wrote a chapter that merits no warnings! I hope you all enjoy.

The next joint meeting between Sandover and Roman featured a new face, a new accountant. Some alpha named Bartholomew. His face was unsettling, jarring, an unpleasant reminder that Castiel had been replaced. At least an alpha wouldn’t be subject to the kind of crap Cas had been, but the thought was only slightly comforting. Dean decided, glancing at the man’s slick hair and smug expression, that he didn’t like him at all.

Not that Dean’s opinion mattered, in this case. Not that anyone would ask him. Dean had to force himself to focus on the matters at hand, torn between the desire to glare Bartholomew out of the room and the desire to launch across the table and pound Dick Roman’s self-satisfied face into the table. It would be so, so satisfying, but the fleeting pleasure it would bring wasn’t worth his job, or his clean criminal record. Roman had fired Cas for daring to refuse him—no way he would let a pummeling from Dean go unpunished.

Dean worked out his frustrations by taking the weekend to work on the Impala, bringing the car over to Bobby’s at long last to give her the attention she deserved. He was dismayed to realize exactly how overdue the car was for a proper tune-up; far beyond needing an oil change, her tires were nearly bald, and something in the engine was leaking. Dean spent nearly an hour just diagnosing all the problems, and several more getting the car back into top condition.

He was covered in sweat and grease by the time he finished with the car, but the Impala herself was shiny and clean, in absolutely perfect condition, and that was the important thing. Dean grabbed a quick shower in Bobby’s bathroom and, feeling more like himself than he had in months, went to thank the old man before leaving.

He found Bobby outside, flipping burgers on the grill. “Hope you know you’re staying for dinner,” the old alpha said without looking up at him. “Gabriel’s bringing Sam over after work. Think Cas is coming too. Apparently we’re making a real party out of this.” He scowled, leaving Dean no illusions Bobby had had anything to do with making his visit a party.

Dean shrugged. “Guess I’ll stick around for free food and booze,” he said, grinning.

“’Course you will,” Bobby grunted. His eyes flicked briefly over to Dean. “You should come work on the cars more often. I ain’t seen you so relaxed in a long time.”

Dean shook his head. “You know I’d like that, but… Work.” He sighed, disgusted. “Yeah, I wish I had more time too, but I needed that promotion. Even if I’m stuck behind a desk all the time.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Still can’t picture you in a suit, and I’ve seen it more times than I can count,” he muttered. “Well, come on. Grab a beer and pull up a chair. Your brother should be here soon.”

“Is it soon yet?” A familiar voice shouted from across the yard. Gabriel crossed the dusty ground, a wicked grin plastered to his face, towing Sam behind him. “Hiya, Mr. Singer. Dean-o, you need to come by the shop soon. Got a couple new pie flavors that are just _begging_ to meet that good old Winchester stomach, and your brother’s useless.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Hey, Sammy. Still putting up with the boss from Hell, I see,” he said, waving at his brother.

“For another month,” Sam said, nodding.

“And then I lose my best employee. It’s all former jailbirds and little kids fresh into high school when he goes.” Gabriel gave a long suffering sigh. “So, Cassie’ll be on his way soon. You know. As soon as he’s certain that his underwear matches his shirt, or whatever. Think it’s ‘cause I told him you’ll be here, Dean.” He winked, smirking.

Dean scowled, making an obscene gesture. “That’s the monkey I know and love,” Gabriel chortled.

“Is he really invited to stay?” Dean asked, glancing at Bobby.

Bobby shrugged. “Damn fool invited himself, but yeah, he is.”

“Aw, I know somewhere behind that sad little frowny face, you think I’m a great guy,” Gabriel said cheerfully.

Castiel showed up about fifteen minutes later, dressed in worn blue jeans and a turquoise shirt that seemed only to draw attention to his eyes and his lean-muscled chest. Dean forced himself to not stare, directing his gaze firmly to his half-eaten burger, a much safer area of focus.

Castiel sat beside him, a plate of food in his hand. “These are delicious,” the man commented, smiling at Dean. “How have you been?”

Dean swallowed. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been good. How’s the new apartment?”

Castiel shrugged. “It’s mostly unpacked. My neighbors seem surprisingly friendly.” He took another bite of his burger, his tongue flicking out to catch a dribble of ketchup that landed at the corner of his mouth. “It will take some getting used to, though.”

“Right. For some reason, Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from Castiel’s lips. “Well. Good that the neighbors are nice.”

Castiel nodded, and turned to speak to Sam. Dean took a deep breath, looking down at the ground. He was _not_ going to show arousal in public. He had way more self-control than that, to say nothing of self-respect!

“So, who decided to turn this into a party?” he asked loudly, the better to tear his mind away from Castiel’s lips. Those plump, wide, pink lips. Lips he wouldn’t mind—

“Me,” Gabriel said, waggling his eyebrows and effectively derailing Dean’s thoughts. Good. “Sam said you were out here, so I figured _someone_ needed to celebrate you getting your corporate ass out of the office. Besides, parties mean booze, food, and fun.”

Dean scowled. “I get out of the office plenty,” he argued.

Gabriel shrugged. “Yeah, to go out drinking solo. If that doesn’t scream middle-class white-collar goon, I don’t know what does.”

“You’re so crass,” Castiel muttered before Dean could speak.

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement with Cas. “For a guy I barely know, you’re way too interested in my personal life,” he said, frowning at Gabriel.

“I’m a nosy, gossipy busy-body. It’s true,” Gabriel said, winking at him.

Castiel shook his head and turned to Dean. “It is good to see you again, though. And Sam and Mr. Singer, of course.”

“Didn’t I already tell you to call me Bobby?” the old alpha complained.

They moved inside as the sun began to set. Bobby turned the television onto a game, and they divided off to root for the teams—Sam, Dean, and Bobby cheering for the home team, Gabriel and Cas throwing their allegiance in with their opponents.

Dean walked Cas out to his car after the game, keeping step with the omega. “We should get together like this more often,” he said, smiling at the other man. Warmth coursed through his veins as Castiel nodded, offering him a small smile in return.

“We should,” Castiel agreed. “I haven’t spent much time around people recently, outside of my job. I suppose it’s been a bit lonely.”

Dean nodded sympathetically. “Well, you ever want to go do something, give me a call,” he said, swallowing down nerves.

Castiel’s lips twitched, his smile widening. “Of course,” he said. “Maybe next time we can spend time together, just the two of us. For something more pleasant than packing my apartment, this time.”

Dean nodded, his heart thudding hard in his chest. Cas was just being friendly, he reminded himself. There was nothing more to it, and it was enough. It was definitely enough.

“Dean.” He jumped, startled, as Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder. “I enjoyed spending time with you tonight,” the omega said, meeting his eyes with a serious gaze. “But I feel that having my brother around when we associate—well, he complicates things. I would like to get to know you better one on one, if that sounds pleasant.”

Dean swallowed hard, his tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth. “You mean like—” he broke off before he could say anything stupid. And it would be stupid. They were just friends.

Cas cocked his head. “Like what?” he asked slowly.

“It’s dumb. Never mind.” Dean laughed shakily and clapped Castiel on the back.

Castiel frowned. “I doubt that,” he said. “Were you going to ask if I’m asking you on a date?”

Busted. Dean flinched and stared at the ground, avoiding Castiel’s gaze. “Like I said, it’s dumb.”

“Dean.” Castiel pulled away and clasped Dean’s hand in his own. Warmth fizzled through Dean’s body, all longing and want and terrifying, consuming desire. “I am not opposed to seeing you one on one, in the context of a date.”

He was—what? Dean blinked, sorting through Cas’s words. “Really?” he asked finally, looking up at the other man.

“Really.” Castiel offered him a tiny smile. “Of course, as you might be able to guess, I do not appreciate traditional dating conventions. I can pay for my own food, for one thing.”

Dean stared blankly at Cas, still trying to work through the idea that the omega might be interested in going on a date with him. “’S fine,” he said when he finally got his throat to work. “That’s good. Yeah. So, um, do you want to go on a date?”

Castiel chuckled. “I already said I am not opposed,” he said, his eyes sparkling. He released Dean’s hand and took a small step back. “Does next weekend work for you?”

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak. “Coffee, say, Saturday morning, around ten?” Castiel asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Yeah.” Dean smiled weakly. “Sounds good. Um, the shop across the street from Gabriel’s?”

Castiel nodded. “So long as we don’t visit Gabriel’s shop. I have the feeling that he would be far too smug,” he said wryly.

“Good. Good.” Dean nodded, his hands twitching uncertainly. “See you then, Cas.”

“Of course. See you then.” Castiel stepped forward and hugged him, pulling back before Dean could reciprocate. He flashed Dean one last smile before climbing into his car and starting the engine.

Dean watched Castiel drive off, dumbstruck. “Wow,” he said aloud to the empty air, staring after the car. A date with Cas. Of all the things he could have anticipated, this was not one of them.

If Dean smiled the entire ride home, at least Sam was kind enough to not mention it.

0o0o0o0o0

It had been way too long since he’d been on a date—more than a year, to be precise. Dean was certain that most alphas did not spend twenty minutes fretting over what to wear on an occasion like this—he never had, and if someone had told him six months ago that he would ever waste time fretting over six shirt combinations to match one pair of pants, he would have laughed himself sick. But here he was, thinking about color scheme and fit and all other sorts of stupid, frivolous things.

Screw it. Dean finally gave up and threw on a green and brown flannel over a dark blue t-shirt. Good enough. A glance at his watch told him that he had some time, but unless he wanted to be late he needed to head out soon. Dean took the time to switch his tapes in his car—Metallica would calm him down. He didn’t need to be a bucket of nerves before meeting up with Cas. Not that he was nervous. He was perfectly calm, and in control, and not fretting and worrying and imagining everything that could go wrong.

All right, so he was nervous.

Dean arrived at the coffee shop five minutes before ten and placed his order. The building was remarkably empty for a Saturday morning, its only other patrons a matronly old omega woman and a pair of college aged betas. He took the opportunity to snag a table by the window, sinking into a heavily cushioned chair while he waited for his drink, and for his date.

 Castiel arrived less than two minutes after Dean had picked up his drink from the counter. Dressed in black slacks and a white shirt unbuttoned to the top of his chest, open tan coat flapping around his knees, Dean was hard-pressed not to stare at the omega. Who wore a coat in this weather anyways? It looked good. Too good. He fingered the stiff denim around his legs awkwardly, suddenly wishing he had dressed in something a little nicer. Not that it was seriously bothering him, or anything. Just that Cas looked so nice…

Castiel sat across from him, a cup of plain coffee cradled in his hands, and smiled. “Hello, Dean,” the man said, taking a sip of coffee and setting it down.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean smiled, his heart thudding erratically. “You look—nice, you look nice.”

Castiel chuckled. “Thank you,” he said easily, scooting his chair in closer. “So do you.”

Dean nodded, his smile widening. God, what was he supposed to do now? He’d never been on a date like this, not with someone he’d already known for months. He’d never had a _history_ with anyone he’d gone out with. The staple questions— _so what do you do, so tell me about your family, tell me about yourself—_ those were all off the table. He already knew the answers.

“You seem nervous,” Castiel said, tilting his head slightly. “Second thoughts?”

“What? No,” Dean blurted out. “Definitely no second thoughts. I… Geez.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the table. “Yeah, okay, fine. I’m a little nervous.”

Castiel smiled. “I don’t think there’s any need to be nervous,” he said seriously. “How is this different from any other date? Aside from the obvious, of course.”

Dean was sure Cas meant to be funny, with that. Unless he didn’t. God, what if he’d agreed to this date because he wanted to use it as an excuse to turn around and humiliate Dean? It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it, maybe, a little. He gripped his drink tightly, taking a long swallow before responding. “Guess it’s because I already sort of know you,” he said.

Castiel hummed, resting his elbows on the table. “I guess,” he said. “But not very well. And I don’t know you terribly well yet, myself.”

Dean blinked. “Right,” he said, laughing. Cas was right. Maybe they didn’t know each other so well yet. He could do this. “What do you want to know?”

Castiel shrugged. “Anything. Where did you go to school? How do you know Mr. and Mrs. Singer? How did you end up with a classic car at such a young age?”

The Impala. He could definitely talk about the Impala. Dean smiled and sat back, relaxing marginally. “She was my dad’s,” he said, glancing at the car parked by the curb. “His first car. Got her right before he proposed to Mom…”

The conversation flowed more easily after that, and Dean and Castiel each went through two more coffees before deciding to leave the coffee shop. “Where to next?” Dean asked before he could stop himself. “Um, that is—if you don’t need to be anywhere. I get it if you have plans, or don’t want to hang around more—”

Castiel held up a hand, silencing him. “Why don’t we find some non-metered parking for our cars, and walk around for a while?” he suggested. “We can stop somewhere if we get hungry, or just go back to our respective houses when we decide it’s time.”

“Sure,” Dean agreed. “Don’t guess you get free parking out behind Gabriel’s?”

Castiel snorted. “Officially, no. But he will not have us ticketed.”

They parked behind Gabriel’s sweet shop and fell into step together, meandering down the block and deeper into the city. They did eventually stop for a late lunch at a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint on some grimy city block. Castiel, true to his warning a week ago, insisted that they split the check; it made Dean feel uneasy, like some kind of cheapskate, but the look on the omega’s face told him that protesting the matter would not end well, and so he didn’t.

The sun was beginning to set by the time they decided to wander back to their cars. As they walked, Dean debated the merits of holding Castiel’s hand, and decided against it. Their conversation had so far been light and superficial, and he didn’t want to upset the dynamic, but there were just some things about Castiel that he wanted to understand, that he needed to know.

“So, Cas,” Dean said finally as Gabriel’s shop came into view. “I wanted to ask you something, and, um… You can hit me if I’m out of line.” Well, that wasn’t quite how he’d wanted this to come out.

Castiel slowed and glanced at him, tilting his head curiously. “I won’t hit you,” he said slowly. “What do you want to ask?”

“Um.” How to phrase it? “I mean, you’re you, and that’s awesome. I guess I just want to know why you’re this way.” Oh, this was coming out perfectly. Dean grimaced. “You know, with the whole working thing. I mean, your family’s _loaded._ You could live off their money forever, marry a rich alpha, and never have to worry about work, or holding down some apartment yourself. I’m just a little confused.” He winced. He had really meant to be more tactful.

Castiel’s brow crinkled. “So, you’re asking me why I have not conformed to gender stereotypes,” he said after a long pause. “Very well. I’ll answer that, but in return, I want to know why _you_ hold these roles and beliefs to be true.”

Dean nodded. “Fair enough.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m sure you recall that my family is quite traditional,” he said slowly. “My mother is an alpha, and my father is an omega. My father divorced my mother shortly after I was born. No one in the family seems to know why, but I would guess that he grew tired of putting up with her strictures and rules.” He shook his head.

“I was homeschooled until high school, taught by only the finest private tutors money could buy. It did not matter that my skills in mathematics and science far exceeded those of my siblings. I grew up with the knowledge that I would graduate high school, and then retire to my mother’s house and seek out an alpha. When I finished middle school, my mother sent me to a private school for omegas to finish my traditional education. Housework, childcare, cooking—all required classes. They were well enough, but the idea of spending my entire life doing nothing but that sort of thing was stifling.”

Dean nodded sympathetically. He could understand that. He remembered the way the world felt like it was closing in when he had first realized that he would need to work in an office to take care of his family properly.

“But my friends at school—they talked about _college.”_ Castiel’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “College, and careers, and dreams outside of raising the perfect family. And I wanted it. I wanted it so badly. And when my sister Anna gave up her dreams to mate with an alpha, I knew I couldn’t do it. I know she loves Hester, but she gave up everything for her, to be a house-spouse and give her life to their children. I respect her choice, but I could never do it. Not like that.”

Dean had honestly never entertained the idea that an omega might find the idea of staying home and raising children to be somehow confining. He supposed he wouldn’t want to stay home either, reliant on a spouse, but he was an _alpha._ He wasn’t supposed to want that. And the idea of having all the time in the world for his future children—that, he did want. So why didn’t Cas?

Castiel sighed and looked down. “I ran away when I graduated high school,” he admitted. “Gabriel knew where I was. I kept in contact with Anna. But the rest of the family—I couldn’t do it. My mother was clear that no omega-child of hers would attend college, not until they were mated and their mate gave permission. So I hid out two states over and worked to start a college fund, until my mother sent Gabriel to find me. My family offered me a deal—come home and they would allow me to attend school. So I did, and then I got a job, moved out, and started applying for internships. And it hasn’t been easy, but I was _happy.”_ Cool blue eyes met Dean’s and held them, searching. “Even with all that has happened, even after the incident with Roman—I am happier now, as a self-sufficient adult, than I ever was as a curiosity trapped in my mother’s house. Because now, I get to be myself, on my own terms. And if I ever find a mate, or decide to have children—it will be on my own terms.”

Dean swallowed hard, nodding. It made sense. Somehow, for some reason, it made sense.

“Now you,” Castiel asked, looking up at Dean. “Why do you cling to traditional gender roles?”

How was he supposed to answer that? Things were what they were. “I guess it’s just always worked for my family,” he said finally. “Dad was an alpha, Mom was a beta. Maybe Mom would have worked when Sammy and I were older, but she—” he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “She died when I was four.”

Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting. Dean took a deep breath before plunging back in. “Dad took care of us, yeah, but he was never so good at the whole, well, caretaking part. Made sure we had food on the table and made the rent most of the time. But he couldn’t do it alone, you know? And I, I had to take care of Sammy, ‘cause no one else was going to. And if that meant I started working soon as I could so Sammy wouldn’t have to, then okay.” He laughed shakily. “Sorry. I’m getting off topic.”

“It’s all right,” Castiel said quietly.

“Anyways.” Dean mentally shook himself. “It’s just always worked this way, and didn’t work so well the other ways. Dad’s mom was an alpha, and she worked, but his dad—sometimes they needed extra help, so his dad would get odd jobs. Never worked so well for him. He ran out on the family when Dad was eight. Too much stress. Dad always said he’s pretty sure his pops ran off to be with a rich alpha who’d take care of him like Gramma couldn’t, and Gramma never said any different.” He shook his head. “With Mom, her dad was an alpha, her mom was a beta. They had a traditional marriage, and it worked really well for them. Don’t know Mom’s side of the family so well, but all her cousins, aunts, and uncles have the same thing going, and it works.”

Castiel nodded. “What about Mr. and Mrs. Singer?” he asked softly.

“Bobby and Jody?” But that was different. “Jody was single for a long time. Of course she had to work. And they don’t have kids, so I guess that’s why she kept her job.” Dean shrugged.

“What about Sam?” Castiel asked curiously. “He seems driven. And none too taken with the idea of settling down to let an alpha take care of him.”

Dean huffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, that’s Sammy for you. Stubborn.” He quieted for a moment. “I always wanted Sammy to settle down with someone who’d take care of him. I’ve been taking care of him his whole life, you know? I mean, yeah, I guess he can take care of himself, but…” He sighed. “I don’t want him to have to do that.”

“I see.” Castiel’s hand wrapped around Dean’s wrist, soft and warm. Fingers found his and twined around them as Castiel pressed his palm against Dean’s. “But what about what he wants?”

Damnit. Dean didn’t want to think about that. “It’s not a bad system,” he said finally, hoping Castiel would understand. “Yeah, maybe there are exceptions.” _Jody. Gabriel. You._ “Maybe some betas and omegas are cut out to work like alphas—I don’t know. My experience says otherwise.”

Castiel nodded seriously. “I know I won’t change your mind,” he said softly, his voice almost hesitant. “I like you, Dean. You’ve managed to defy my expectations about you. And I enjoyed our date. But there cannot be another unless you are open to re-evaluating your experiences, because I will not change who I am, and I cannot be with someone who doesn’t respect that.”

Dean swallowed hard. “It’s not that I’m not open to it,” he said slowly. “I mean, you’ve kinda knocked my expectations out of the water yourself. But I’m not changing who I am either.”

Castiel met his eyes. “What do you want from me, Dean?” he asked softly. “From this? Just the one date, maybe two or three? A friendship? A courtship?”

Fuck. Dean hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I like being your friend,” he said after a long pause. “And I’d like to ask you on another date. A courtship, though…” He sighed. “I’ve only seriously courted one other person. A beta. And she also didn’t share my viewpoints, so we didn’t work out.” He squeezed Castiel’s hand. “I don’t know that a courtship between us would work. But I—” He swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat. “I think I’d like to try.”

Castiel nodded. “Perhaps another date would be in order before we make that decision,” he said calmly. “Next weekend? I think we both need to think about this.”

Dean exhaled, squeezing Castiel’s hand lightly. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’ll call you. Work out the details over the week.”

Castiel smiled. “That sounds good,” he said, taking a step forward, the edges of his coat brushing against Dean’s chest. “Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean’s heart pounded in his chest as Castiel rose up on his toes, his lips lightly brushing Dean’s own. Soft, dry, and warm, the contact was too brief for Dean’s liking; he froze, the desire to crush his lips against Cas’s in a _real_ kiss warring with the desire to turn and flee.

“Thank you for getting to know me as me.” Castiel took a step back and released Dean’s hand. “I’ll see you next weekend,” he said, turning away and walking towards his car.

Damn. Dean took a deep breath and made his way over to the Impala, his hands shaking. That was intense, way deeper and more personal than he had expected their date to be. He fumbled the car door open and slouched into the driver’s seat, staring through the windshield, his eyes hardly focusing on the dusty bricks in front of him.

There was just so much more to Cas than he had expected, and he’d already begun to realize that the omega was deeper than he’d ever fathomed. Less of a rebellious progressive, and more like a bird that had escaped its cage. Something twisted in Dean’s gut, sadness and desire and a well of emotions that he could not even begin to name, much less to understand.

Next weekend. Dean turned on the car and muted the cassette player, his hands hesitating over the gears for a long moment. He’d have another date with Cas next weekend, and maybe then he could begin to understand the man.


	10. Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel go on a second date. At Castiel's request, Dean talks to Charlie, seeking out additional perspective on traditional roles, and why it means so much to Cas that Dean put them aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally write fluffy things. Is it coming out okay? All feedback is appreciated.

The next week seemed to drag on forever, mindless tedium and monotony. Dean powered through seemingly endless reports and meetings, clinging to the weekend as his single bright spot. Saturday. Saturday, he would see Cas again. It was enough to keep him going, even when he wanted to rip his hair out and scream.

He kept in contact with Cas through text, conferring with the omega as he set about planning their date. Nothing too extravagant—not for a second date—but dinner out was fairly standard. Cas seemed to agree, and they agreed to meet at five in the evening at a tiny Italian restaurant that, according to Cas, came highly recommended.

By the time Saturday finally rolled around, Dean has worked himself into a frenzy over the date. It didn’t help that Sam seemed determined to make him miserable, teasing him incessantly over the sheer amount of time he spent in the shower and choosing his outfit. Dick. Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever been so glad to flee to the Impala, Sam’s joking laughter echoing in his ears as he drove away. Kid was getting Nair in his shampoo bottle, Dean decided. Little twerp had it coming.

By the time he pulled up in front of the restaurant, however, Sam was far from the first thing on his mind. Castiel’s car was already there, positioned at the back of the parking lot. Dean parked beside the car and wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks, swallowing hard. He could do this. No big deal. Dean swallowed hard and exited the car, taking a few deep breaths to get a handle on his emotions. Spine rigid, he made his way towards the restaurant, plastering a smile onto his face.

The hostess led him to a small, quiet table in the back, where Castiel sat waiting. Dean flashed the omega a nervous grin and slid into the seat opposite to him. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel met his eyes and smiled. “Hello, Dean,” he said, setting his menu down. “I asked our server to bring us both water. Is that all right?”

“Perfect, yeah. Thanks.” Dean picked up the menu and flipped through it idly, glancing periodically at Cas.

It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that Castiel ordered the cheapest thing off the menu and kept his drink to nothing but water. No doubt he intended to pay for himself again. Dean sighed inwardly but held his tongue, keeping instead to light topics of conversation. Sam would be going back to school in another few weeks, and Cas asked him more questions than he could answer about Sam’s career plan and if he intended to take the bar at the end of the year. Dean knew better than to talk about Castiel’s family, and instead asked him about working at the convenience store, and about his neighbors.

“Garth’s all right,” Castiel said in response to one of Dean’s questions. “He lives next door. And the Trans, who live above me—Kevin Tran is actually one of my co-workers. A high school student. He has a lot of questions about college and the professional work force.” Castiel smiled sadly, and Dean swallowed hard, his chest tightening.

“You looking around for other jobs?” he asked, taking a bite of his calzone. Sausage and cheese—almost as good as a burger. He could dig this place.

“I am,” Castiel said, “but it’s going slowly. It’s good to have something in the meantime.”

They finished their meals, and Dean insisted on ordering dessert. Lemon meringue pie wasn’t his favorite, but it was still _pie._ “My treat,” he assured Cas when the other man looked worried. “And I’ve got the tip, too. You sure I can’t convince you to let me pick up the whole tab?”

Cas snorted, rolling his eyes. “I have enough money to pay for a plate of spaghetti and a glass of water, Dean.”

The pie was disappointing, as far as Dean was concerned, but Cas seemed to enjoy the bites he took off Dean’s plate, so he couldn’t fault the restaurant too much. Sated, they made their way back to their respective cars, joking and laughing the entire time.

“So,” Dean began, leaning against the door to the Impala. “Date number three next weekend?” he asked hopefully.

A small smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “Maybe,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Can I ask you a favor first?”

Dean frowned slightly, but nodded. “What is it?”

Castiel shifted, glancing at the ground. “If I give you Charlie’s number, would you be willing to talk to her?” he asked quietly. “About—well. Traditional lifestyles versus how I live. It means a lot that you’re giving me a chance, don’t get me wrong, but I’d be more comfortable knowing you’ve talked to other people about it as well.”

He could have seen this coming. Dean exhaled, his throat constricting. “I’m trying, Cas,” he said after a long moment. “I thought I was doing a good job.”

“You are,” Castiel said hastily. “Just… It would ease my mind to know you’ve had this conversation with another person affected by these stereotypes. Is that fair?” He glanced up, his expression guarded.

Well, it wasn’t as though Dean didn’t enjoy Charlie’s company. “Sure,” he said, handing Castiel his phone so that the omega could enter the woman’s number. “I guess you want me to talk to her before we go out again?”

Castiel’s lips twitched. “I would appreciate that, yes.”

“Well, okay.” Dean nodded and took back his phone. “I’ll talk to her before next weekend, if you want to do another Saturday thing.”

“Thank you.” Castiel smiled gently, his expression softening.

Dean stared at Cas for a long moment. “Can I kiss you?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. A flush rose in his cheeks, and he ducked his head, staring at the floor. Really? Asking if he could kiss him, like he was some nervous high school kid? _Smooth, Dean. Very smooth._

Dean looked up as Castiel laughed softly. “You have to ask?” the omega asked, stepping forward. Dean took a deep breath, inhaling Castiel’s scent, and then the omega’s lips pressed against his own, and he forgot to think.

Soft and rich, Castiel’s lips weren’t as dry as Dean had remembered from that brief, too-short peck a week ago. Dean moaned, one of his hands rising to tangle in Castiel’s hair as he pulled the omega close, drinking in his scent, his sweet taste. Castiel’s lips moved gently over his own, his tongue snaking out to run over Dean’s lower lip. Dean inhaled sharply, his pants tightening ever so slightly as Castiel’s body pressed against his own, firm and lean, the barest bulge of arousal pressing against Dean’s thigh.

Dean drew back, panting, staring at Castiel with wide eyes. “Wow,” he said finally, swallowing hard.

Cas chewed on his lip, his eyes huge in his face, startlingly nervous. “Was that all right?” the omega asked uncertainly.

“All right?” Dean chuckled. “Damn, Cas, that was—wow. Who taught you how to kiss?”

Castiel flushed. “I haven’t really had the time or the inclination to actually kiss someone before,” he muttered, averting his eyes.

Dean stared at the man, his jaw falling slack. “That was—that was your first kiss?” he asked, disbelieving.

“Well, technically, my first kiss was last weekend, with you,” Castiel said, clasping his hands in front of him.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow,” he said, grinning. “I’d never have guessed.” He shook his head. “You’re a good kisser.”

“Thank you,” Castiel muttered, his flush darkening.

Dean grinned and placed a quick kiss on Castiel’s lips. “I’ll see you later,” he said, opening the driver’s side door and climbing into the Impala.

He could definitely get on board with more of that. Dean pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to Charlie.

_-hey, charlie. its dean winchester. are you busy tomorrow?-_

0o0o0o0o0

Sunday nights at the bar were always loud, and Dean had to lean in close just to hear Charlie talk. The omega had brought along her mate, and they sat together at the bar, sipping on a Long Island and some sort of draft beer, respectively. “So, what was so urgent?” Charlie asked, regarding Dean curiously. “You said it was something to do with Cas?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, his voice raised in hopes that she could hear him. “Something about him wanting me to get another working omega’s perspective on gender stereotypes.”

“Why?” Dorothy asked before Charlie could speak. She looked at Dean suspiciously, setting her drink down on the bar. “You do something stupid?”

Dean scowled. “Why does everyone always think that?” he complained. “No. Cas wanted me to get that perspective before he agreed to date number three.”

Charlie gasped, clasping her hands together excitedly. “You guys are dating? Wow! Congratulations! I wondered if he’d ever come out of his shell.”

Dean grinned and glanced down at the bar, hoping that he wasn’t blushing. That would be embarrassing. “Yeah, well, I like him. I think he likes me.”

Charlie nodded, grinning. “That’s awesome. Okay, well, what do you want to know?”

Dean shrugged—honestly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Anything, I guess. He thinks I’m too traditional. Me, I think I’m doing a pretty good job understanding.”

“Hm.” Charlie tapped the edge of her glass, watching Dean curiously. “I think I see the issue. Traditional gender roles are kinda gross. No offense,” she said as Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “But seriously. I mean, for me, if Dorothy and I both stayed home cleaning and stuff, we’d be broke in a month. And we can’t exactly have babies of our own, so that sort of thing’s out.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I get it for you guys,” he said, glancing at the two omegas. “But like, for everyone else. Doesn’t it make sense to have the alpha work and the beta or omega stay home?”

Dorothy rolled her eyes. Charlie frowned, apparently thinking. “I’ve got it,” she said finally. “You’ve read Harry Potter, right?”

Dean blinked. “I, uh, I’ve seen the movies,” he said slowly.

“Heathen. The books are better.” Charlie laughed. “But that works. Okay, so you know how Hermione’s an omega and Ron’s an alpha, right? And they get together in the end, even though Hermione and Harry totally should have—”

“Charlie.” Dorothy tapped her mate on the shoulder. “I don’t think he needs an hour long shipping presentation.”

“Right. Sorry.” Charlie shook her head, as Dean frowned. Shipping? What?

“Anyways. Hermione’s the smart one, right? She gets Harry and Ron out of basically all their bad situations. She’s the one who figured out it was a Basilisk in _Chamber of Secrets_ , she got them into Gringotts by pretending to be Bellatrix Lestrange in the seventh book—”

“Charlie. Point.” Dorothy was smiling, even as she mouthed _‘sorry!’_ to Dean.

Charlie sighed. “You’re no fun,” she complained. “Think about how differently the books would have gone if Hermione thought she had to be subservient to Ron. Or if she only planned on going to school to meet a mate, not to learn and grow as a person.”

“Okay?” Dean said, bemused.

“Ooh, or Star Wars. You know, Luke and Leia were both betas. Traditionally, they wouldn’t have been allowed a role in the rebellion at _all,_ much less the leading parts they played. Then the Death Star would never have blown up, and the Empire would have continued on its reign of terror.” Charlie leaned forward, watching Dean intently. “You get it?”

Dean blinked, and then shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s just fiction,” he said finally.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, but fiction’s a product of reality,” she said. “And works as a mirror for modern day society. Real life omegas and betas are a lot more like Hermione and Luke than they are some blown up stereotype. Minus the magic powers,” she added mournfully. “Sadly. No wizards or Jedi here, unless they’re doing a really good job hiding themselves from us muggles.”

“Cutting out the nerd-speech,” Dorothy said, lightly punching Charlie’s arm, “stereotypes are bullshit. I’ve got my job as a ranger, and I’ve had a lot of testosterone-drunk alphas assume I can’t do my job—until they’re lost in the woods, and I’m leading the search party that finds ‘em. They’re more than happy for some “pretty little omega” to come to their rescue at that point. And tell you what, I’ve saved a lot of lives that way.”

That… Made sense. Both of them made sense, Charlie’s nerd-speech included. “So, it’s really about being underestimated,” he said slowly.

“Exactly!” Charlie said brightly. “I’m an omega, and I’m the best computer programmer you’ll ever meet. Dorothy’s an omega, and she’s really good with tracking and wildlife and stuff. Neither of us can cook worth a damn, and Dorothy’s more likely to drop a baby than make it stop crying.” She grinned at her mate, then turned back to Dean. “And I’ll bet you’re not all alpha stereotype, deep down.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Charlie shrugged. “Stereotypes underestimate alphas too. You know. The stereotypical alpha that burns water and can’t operate a washing machine and freaks out whenever he has to change a diaper, you know. Is that you?”

Dean blinked—he’d never thought of it that way. “Well, no,” he said. “I basically raised my brother. I’ve been changing diapers since I was four and cooking since I was just a kid.”

Charlie nodded sagely. “And now that you’re a big, full-grown alpha, you still know how to handle that sort of thing?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, drawing out the word. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, there you go!” Charlie grinned. “Pretty sure that’s all Cas wants. You know, for you to figure out he can do so-called alpha things. Probably doesn’t hurt that you can do omega things too.”

Putting it that way, it made too much sense. “I think I get it,” Dean said finally. “It’s just weird. Traditional roles have always worked in my family.”

Charlie shrugged. “They’re not necessarily bad,” she said. “Just shouldn’t be applied across the board. There’s nothing wrong with being a work-all-day alpha, or an omega who stays home with their kids all the time. It’s just not for everyone, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, taking a shaky breath. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Awesome!” Charlie grinned. “So. Tell me more about this thing you’ve got going with Cas…”

0o0o0o0o0

Dean hesitated, clutching his phone nervously. What if it wasn’t enough? What if Cas said he wanted more from Dean, or that he’d changed his mind entirely? Dean still wasn’t sure exactly what to make of his conversation with Charlie. It had been an eye-opener, to say the least. What if it wasn’t enough?

Screw it. He’d drive himself crazy if he didn’t do something. Dean pulled up his contacts and hovered over Castiel’s name, taking a deep breath before he hit the call button.

Castiel picked up on the third ring. _“Dean?”_ he said sleepily. Crap. Dean hadn’t thought he’d wake the other man up. _“What is it?”_

“Hey, Cas.” Dean gulped, his fingers tightening around his phone. “So, ah—I talked to Charlie.”

_“You did?”_ Castiel sounded vaguely surprised. _“Wasn’t expecting you to get around to that so soon.”_

Dean laughed nervously. “Yeah, well, we were both free tonight. It was interesting.” He took a deep breath. “I think I get it. The stuff you wanted me to know. Like, stereotypes and underestimating people. I guess they’re kinda crappy after all.”

Castiel exhaled loudly. _“That they are,”_ he said, his voice soft, crackling through the phone’s speaker.

“So, um.” Dean swallowed hard. “Is it a bad time to ask you on that third date?”

Castiel chuckled, sending fissures of warmth through Dean’s body. _“No, I’d say this is not a bad time,”_ he said lightly.

“Cool.” Dean grinned, part of him glad that no one was around to see the undoubtedly goofy look on his face. “So, uh, I was thinking you could come over to my house, and I could cook dinner. Does that sound good?”

_“Your house?”_ There was a long pause; Dean gripped his phone tightly, shoving down the barest edges of worry. Maybe inviting Cas over was too presumptuous. _“That should be fine. I look forward to it.”_

Dean sagged, relieved. “Cool,” he said. “So, Saturday again?”

_“Saturday it is.”_ He could hear the amusement coloring Castiel’s voice. _“I look forward to it.”_

“Awesome. Good night, Cas.”

_“Good night, Dean.”_

No sooner had Dean hung up the phone than a loud clatter sounded from several rooms away, accompanied by muffled cursing. “Dean!” Sam shouted, his voice muffled by the distance. “My sense of smell doesn’t suck _that_ much. What the hell did you put in my shampoo?”

Dean doubled over laughing—he’d almost forgotten about the prank he’d pulled on Sam. “You need a haircut, kiddo!” he called back, falling backwards against his pillows and grinning up at the ceiling.

Against all odds, Dean decided, life was good.


	11. Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas have their third date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the past few mark the longest stretch of sheer fluff and domesticity I have ever written, I think. Hopefully that's not too boring!

“That just about concludes our little chat. Remember, if you attended this meeting, I want you at Roman Industries at eight-o-clock _sharp_ on Monday.” Adler stared imperiously out over the conference table, his beady eyes landing on Dean for a long moment. “Okay, that’s it. Chop-chop! I need those final reports in my inbox before any of you leaves for the day. After that, enjoy your weekend.”

Dean sighed and rose with the rest of the group, gathering up his notes and jamming them into his briefcase. Spectacular. He’d hoped to get out early today, but no, Adler just _had_ to have his reports. Dean was convinced it was nothing but sadism on the part of his boss. No way the company actually needed the reports in before the end of next week. What a royal pain in the ass.

“What’s got your panties in a wad, Winchester?” Gordon asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at the no-doubt murderous expression on Dean’s face.

“Nothing,” Dean muttered, glaring at the man. “Why? Wishing it was you?”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Don’t get cute with me, Winchester,” he said coolly. “You looked like you smelled a skunk all meeting. Life of a high-roller not sitting so well now that you actually have to work for it?”

Dean scowled. Damn, he hated this guy. “High-roller, yeah. Totally my life. And on weekends, I go golfing with all the big-wigs, drinking champagne and talking about how to ruin your career.”

“Thought I just told you not to get cute with me.” Gordon narrowed his eyes. “You should watch your back. Attitude like that, someone else is gonna have your job real quick.”

“I’ll make a note of that. You know, put it in my diary of quotes from people I don’t give a crap about.” Dean snatched up his briefcase and stalked from the conference room. He ducked into his office and flopped down in his computer chair, glaring at the monitor. “Just you and me, now,” he muttered, jabbing the keyboard angrily as he typed in his password.

It was nearly eight by the time Dean finally left the office, in a foul mood all around. The drive home seemed to take forever, and when he finally threw open the door, the house was empty. Sam had left him a note on the fridge, saying that he’d already eaten and would be back before midnight. Fantastic. Dean tossed some left-overs in the microwave, then headed out into the living room to turn on the TV.

Sam finally rolled home just before midnight, as Dean sat engrossed in a re-run of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “Kinda surprised you’re still awake,” Sam said, flopping down on the couch next to Dean. “Buffy? Haven’t you seen this episode like eight times?”

“Six,” Dean replied with a shrug. “It’s almost over.”

Dean turned off the TV as the episode ended and shifted on the couch so he was facing Sam. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?” he asked.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I’m not getting a haircut,” he said, gesturing to his just-noticeably thinner hair.

Dean snorted. “Got you good, didn’t I?” he teased as Sam glared at him. “Nah, that’s not it. Think you can find something to do out of the house tomorrow night?”

Sam regarded him curiously. “Why?” he asked.

Dean sighed. “Shoulda mentioned this earlier, I guess. Cas is coming over.”

“Cas?” Sam asked, frowning slightly. “Why can’t I be here? I like the guy.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Because, it’s a date, and I don’t need my brother third-wheeling all over the place,” he said, ruffling Sam’s hair.

Dean was almost tempted to pull out his phone and snap a picture, because the dumbfounded look on Sam’s face was definitely worthy of lifetime preservation. “Cas agreed to go on a date with _you?”_ he demanded, staring at Dean.

“Yep. Third one, actually. Where do you think I’ve been these past couple weekends?”

“Well, I didn’t think you were on a _date,”_ Sam said. “Thought you were just out, I don’t know, drinking together or something. Why do you think I was laughing at you for freaking out over your looks so much? It’s seriously a date? And Cas knows this?”

Dean sighed. “Yes, Sammy, Cas knows he’s been going on dates with me,” he said patiently. “So? Can you be somewhere else tomorrow night?”

Sam gaped at him for a long moment. “Yeah, sure,” he said finally, folding his arms across his chest. “Wow. What possessed Cas to date _you,_ of all people?”

“Really feeling the love here, Sammy.” Dean crossed his arms, mirroring his brother. “Why’s it so surprising?”

Sam shrugged. “I dunno, you used to act like you hated the guy. And you guys are kind of really different, you know?”

Dean glanced away, allowing his arms to fall slack. “We’re really not,” he said finally. “I’ve been doing some thinking. You know, Cas has changed my mind on a lot of stuff. We’re not so different after all.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked. “So, what, you’re cool with knowing that Cas is never gonna be your perfect little house-spouse?”

The noise that escaped Dean’s lips was most definitely _not_ a squeak. “That’s looking a little too far down the road, don’t you think?” he asked, staring at Sam. “We’re not even officially courting! But yeah, I get it. Cas is gonna be Cas, and if that includes working and careers and stuff, then I’m okay with it.”

Sam’s face split into a grin. “Seriously?” he demanded. “Wow. Never expected to hear you say that. Want to repeat yourself?”

Dean glared at his brother. “You heard me, Sasquatch.”

“You know, I don’t think I did.” Sam’s grin widened. “Don’t think I got it the first time. You’re admitting that omegas and betas _can_ take care of themselves without an alpha? Was that it?”

“You’re walking the fine line that gets Nair in your shampoo again, Sammy,” Dean warned. “But yeah, fine, however you want to put it. Want me to put it on a t-shirt?”

“That’d be a good start,” Sam said, laughing. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming at _all.”_

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, Cas is… He’s Cas. He’s pretty convincing about taking care of himself.” Dean quieted, glancing at the floor. “Think if Mom was around, she’d have told me all this earlier?”

Sam was silent for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said finally. “She probably would’ve. But hey, better late than never.” He clapped Dean on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you. Takes guts to admit you’re wrong.”

“Watch it,” Dean said warningly, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders and yanking his head into his lap, the knuckles of his free hand positioned dangerously over Sam’s head. Sam yelped, struggling as Dean affectionately ruffled Sam’s hair, maybe just a touch too hard. “You’re getting dangerously close to gooey-sap territory. Don’t even go there.”

“Get off me!” Sam yelped, struggling free of Dean’s arms. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean replied, grinning. “So, we good for tomorrow?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll stay out of your hair. But if you guys are gonna, you know, _do_ anything, you’d better not do it in any room I actually use!”

“What are you talking about, Sammy? I was totally gonna bang Cas’s brains out on your bed.” Dean laughed at the outraged noise that escaped his brother’s lips. “Kidding. I’m kidding! I want to do this thing right, I’m not gonna have sex with Cas this early on.”

Sam snorted. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?” he demanded.

“Can it, Sammy.” Dean leaned back against the couch, grinning. “Okay, that’s enough. Bed-time for little betas.”

“It’s midnight, it’s summer, and I have tomorrow off. I’m not going to bed yet.” The look Sam directed at Dean was nothing short of royally bitchy. “And really? _Little?_ I thought you were over your height-complex.”

“Better check your shampoo in the morning, kid. You’re begging for an ass-whooping.” Dean rose, groaning as his spine popped with the motion. “All right, well, _I’m_ going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Good night, Dean.”

Dean grinned and ruffled Sam’s hair one last time, chuckling as his brother swatted at his hands. “Night, Sammy.”

0o0o0o0o0

Sam left the house the next day shortly after three, with another stern reminded that if, for some reason, Dean and Cas did decide to “do… something,” they’d better keep it confined to Dean’s room. Obnoxious little twerp. Dean spent the next two hours in a frenzy, ensuring that the roast he’d had marinating all day was seasoned _just right_ and that not a single clump of dirt or old napkin was left on the floor or any of the surfaces. So maybe he wanted to impress Cas on the omega’s first visit to his house. That was perfectly normal and justifiable.

Cas arrived just before five-thirty, his tan coat smart over a crisp white shirt and loose blue tie, a six-pack of beer clutched in his hand. “Hello, Dean,” he said, smiling as Dean opened the door.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean grinned. “Come on in. You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Yes, well, it seemed polite.” Cas stepped over the threshold and offered the six-pack to Dean. “I considered bringing wine, but I’ve never seen you drink it, so I figured this was safer.”

Dean laughed. “Beer works,” he said, taking the six pack from Cas as the man kicked off his shoes and shrugged his coat from his shoulders. “Dinner should be ready soon. Want to break into these?” He nodded at the beer.

“Sure,” Castiel said, glancing around the hallway. “I like your house. It seems comfortable.”

Dean shrugged. “Seems that way until you’ve got Sammy hogging the only bathroom to wash his hair for three hours every night,” he joked. He led Cas into the kitchen and set the beer in the fridge, pulling out a bottle and offering one to Cas.

The coffee and restaurant dates had been nice, but there was something different, something intimate, about having Cas come to his own house. The omega seemed pleased with Dean’s cooking, putting away a large portion of roast and asparagus as he and Dean chatted about nothing and everything. Of course, no dinner-date was complete without pie, and Dean broke out the box he’d purchased from Gabriel’s shop when they’d finished the main meal.

“I’d have made something myself, but I can’t bake worth a damn,” Dean said apologetically, cutting a large piece for Cas and sliding it across the table. “Haven’t had Gabriel’s cherry pie before, so here’s to hoping it doesn’t suck.”

Castiel laughed. “I’ve had it,” he assured Dean, picking up his fork. “It’s very good.”

They ate their pie mostly in silence. Castiel was right. The pie was delicious, sweet filling spilling out from between the crust, rich and gooey and warm from the microwave. Dean groaned at sat back when he’d finished, grinning at Cas. “You’ve got some on your face,” he noted, gesturing at the smear of red at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel flushed, grabbing his napkin and dabbing at his mouth. “Better?”

“Almost.” The table wasn’t too long; Dean leaned forward and swiped his index finger over the trace of filling. “It’s gone now.” He popped his finger into his mouth and sucked, the sweet taste bursting over his tongue.

Castiel stared at him for a long moment, his eyes widening. “Thank you,” he said slowly, his cheeks darkening.

“No problem.” Dean grinned—wow. Maybe it was awful of him, but Cas was _adorable_ when flustered. “Want to pop in a movie or something?”

They migrated to the living room and settled down on the couch. “Got any preferences?” Dean asked, turning on the TV and gesturing towards his collection of DVDs.

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t watch many movies. Charlie says it’s a sin against pop-culture that I haven’t seen Star Wars, so if you have—”

“Dude,” Dean said, cutting Cas off and staring at him. “You haven’t seen Star Wars? Man, you’ve been missing out. We’re watching it.”

Castiel smiled slightly. “All right,” he agreed.

Dean rose and popped the DVD in, then settled back down on the couch with Cas, remote in hand. He hit play when the menu screen popped up and set down the remote, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “This okay?” he asked when the man made no attempt to move.

“Very.” Castiel leaned against his side, his torso warm and solid against Dean’s own. Dean swallowed hard, glancing sidelong at the omega. Castiel’s eyes were focused on the screen, his brow furrowed with rapt attention. Dean chuckled and turned his gaze back to the TV, relaxing.

By the end of the movie, Castiel had somehow managed to end up with his head in Dean’s lap. Idly, Dean ran his fingers through soft, dark hair, his attention torn between the story on the screen and the very real, very warm omega pressed against him. “You like it?” he asked, rubbing lightly behind Castiel’s ear.

“Mm,” Castiel responded quietly. “It was interesting. You’d think that trained soldiers of such an expansive empire would have better aim, though.”

Dean laughed. “Dude, first rule of Star Wars. Stormtroopers can’t hit a stationary mark, much less a moving one.”

Castiel sat up, his hair sticking out in complete disarray. “That’s remarkably inefficient,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, it is.” Dean grinned. “But it’s good, right?”

“It’s certainly more compelling than most movies I’ve seen recently.” Castiel leaned back against the couch, straightening his tie. “I’d suggest that we watch the second one, but I think I’d fall asleep by the time it finished.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, makes sense,” he said, glancing at the clock. Almost ten—wow. He hadn’t realized that he and Cas had spent so long talking over dinner. “You could come over tomorrow to watch it, if you like,” he offered.

Castiel shook his head. “I’d like to, but unfortunately, I’m working a double-shift,” he said. “By the time I get out, you’ll undoubtedly be in bed.”

“Oh. Right.” Dean had almost forgotten that Castiel didn’t work nine-to-five like he did. Or, well, eight-to-eight, as it had been so often recently. “Nah, that’s cool. We can watch it next weekend, if you like. Or hell, you could come over on a weeknight if you wanted.”

Castiel hummed and leaned against Dean, resting his head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Carefully, Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel’s waist and held him gently.

“Dean?” Castiel’s eyes flicked to his face, searching. “I’d like to kiss you again.”

Dean blinked, staring at Cas for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that too.” He untangled his arm from Castiel’s side and sat up straight, his heart speeding up ever so slightly as Castiel sat up and turned to face him.

Castiel’s lips met his with soft surety, chaste and still for a long moment. Dean sighed, content, and let his lips fall open, running his tongue gently over the seam of Castiel’s mouth. Castiel’s tongue flicked out to meet his, tentative at first, then with confidence, his tongue questing over Dean’s lower lips as though searching.

Dean groaned, shifting his weight and swinging his leg over Castiel’s body to straddle the other man’s lap. Beneath him, the man went still. Dean pulled back, suddenly worried. Crap. “Sorry,” he muttered, meeting Castiel’s eyes for a brief moment before looking away. “Too fast?”

“No, just—unexpected.” Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and tugged, pulling Dean against his chest. “Just give me a second.”

Dean nodded and rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder, inhaling the omega’s sweet scent. The barest hints of arousal laced through his sugary smell; Dean shuddered, his cock hardening in his pants. “Sorry,” he muttered when Castiel made a noise of surprise. “You smell good.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel whispered, rubbing his hand up and down Dean’s back. “I think—no further than this tonight, though.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, nuzzling Castiel’s neck. Yeah, he could work with that.

Castiel brought his hand up to the back of Dean’s head, gently tugging his face away from his neck. Dean smiled as the omega brought his lips to his, kissing him slowly, sweetly. Desire coiled in Dean’s gut; he shifted, curling a hand lightly in Castiel’s hair, deepening the kiss.

After several long moments, a too-short eternity, Dean drew back and shifted off of Castiel’s lap. “Dean?” the omega asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Sorry, gimme a sec.” Dean took a deep breath, trying desperately to will his arousal down. “Just need a minute to, um, calm down a little.” Every instinct begged him to claim Castiel’s lips again, to hold him close and grind to completion. It was too soon, he reminded himself. Too soon, and Castiel had said he didn’t want to go that far. He shuddered, grappling with his base animal instincts. He met Castiel’s eyes, smiling shakily.

“Here.” Castiel shifted so that he was leaning back against the couch and pulled Dean’s head onto his chest, carding his long, elegant fingers through Dean’s hair. “Is this good?”

Dean nodded, burying his nose in Castiel’s abdomen. He’d never really been one for cuddling, but somehow with Cas, it felt good. Safe, even. Like coming home.

They lay there for several minutes in comfortable silence. The faint sound of Castiel’s heartbeat thudded in Dean’s ears, soothing and gentle. The scent of arousal slowly dissipated, fading to the clean smell of home, of alpha and omega at rest. Castiel’s slow, regular breath was warm on the top of Dean’s head, lulling him gently towards a sleepy, relaxed state.

It wouldn’t do to fall asleep, though. Reluctantly, Dean sat up, blinking rapidly to rouse himself to full alertness. “You’re too comfortable,” he said, smiling at Cas.

“Hmmm.” Castiel closed his eyes and reached out, lazily running his fingertips over Dean’s cheek. “I should probably go home soon.”

Dean nodded, ignoring the part of him that wanted to ask Castiel to stay. “You want to take some food home with you?” he asked. “I mean, if you liked it.”

“I did,” Castiel said, cracking his eyes open and smiling. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, that’s me. Full of surprises.”

Castiel nodded and sat up, grunting slightly. “That you are,” he agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

Dean followed Cas into the kitchen and boxed up some of the leftovers, making the hard decision to part with half of the remaining pie. He could always get more, after all. “Seriously, sometime this week,” he said, handing the small stack of Tupperware to Cas. “Come over, and we’ll watch the next Star Wars, okay?”

Castiel nodded. “That sounds good,” he said.

“Cool.” Dean grinned. “Actually, before you go, I have one more question.” Now seemed like as good a time as any to ask.

Castiel tilted his head, gazing up at Dean. “Yes?” he asked.

Geez. Now that he was about to ask, the barest beginnings of nerves started fluttering in his belly. “I know we haven’t really talked about it much, but, um, _canIcourtyou?”_ He winced. Well. It could have come out a lot more ridiculous.

Castiel took a step forward, his lips turning up into a wide smile. “Yes, Dean,” he said quietly, placing a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips. “You may.”

Dean sagged, relieved, some of the nerves fizzling away. “Awesome,” he said, wiping his hands on his shirt. “Okay. Good. So… This week, then. Let me know when you’re not working.”

Castiel nodded. Dean followed him to the hallway to get his shoes and jacket, and walked with him out to his car. The summer air was hot on his skin, slightly muggy; the chirping of crickets was just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engine. Dean watched Castiel drive away before heading back into the house and sinking down on the couch.

It wasn’t just dates, now. It was an actual _courtship._ Dean picked up a throw pillow and hugged it to his chest, his mind whirling.

It wasn’t too soon, was it? Yeah, maybe if he’d just _met_ Cas three dates would be a bit fast-paced, but he’d known him for more than a year now. They’d been friends for months. Besides, for all that a courtship was supposedly a trial mating period, no one took it _that_ seriously anymore. It wasn’t like they’d gotten engaged, or anything.

Nah, it was probably fine. Dean uncurled his body and shoved the pillow behind his head, reaching for his phone with one hand. He pulled up Sam in his contacts and fired off a quick message. _–you can come home now-_

It was a full minute before Sam replied. _–Sorry, forgot to tell you. Ruby and I are eloping. See you after the honeymoon :)-_

_-your not serious-_ Dean glared at his phone.

_-Of course not. We’re just friends, sheesh. Leaving her house now.-_

Dean rolled his eyes. If he’d known Sam was going to hang out with Ruby, he’d have called Bobby and asked him to kidnap the kid for a few hours.

Sam strolled through the door twenty minutes later. “So? How’d the date go?” he asked, flopping down on the couch next to Dean.

“Good,” Dean said cheerfully. “It was really good. We’re courting now.”

Sam choked, staring wide-eyed at Dean. “Seriously? Wait, how many dates have you guys been on?”

“Three,” Dean replied, scowling good-naturedly at his brother. “And it’s not like we just met, or anything.”

“Yeah, but still. That’s fast.” Sam shook his head.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shaddup. At least I’ve got better taste than you. Ruby? Seriously?”

Sam huffed, glaring at Dean. “Dude. Just friends, remember? I’ve kinda got a thing going with Jess. You know, my friend from Stanford?”

Dean shrugged. “Wasn’t just friends last Christmas,” he commented.

“Well, that was then, and this is now. Why are we talking about me, anyways? I wanted to grill you about your date.” Sam sniffed, scenting the air. “Thank you for not having sex in the living room.”

Dean groaned and pulled the pillow out from behind him, throwing it at his brother. “Dude, I told you, we weren’t going to have sex tonight.”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, but this is you we’re talking about. There’s like, _maybe_ a twenty percent chance you were serious.”

“Whatever, Sammy.” Dean leaned back against the arm of the couch. “So, did you know Cas hadn’t seen Star Wars? He’s gonna come over later this week to watch the next one.”

“Cool,” Sam said, nodding his approval. “You gonna kick me out of the house again?”

“Maybe,” Dean said jokingly. “It was kinda nice, having a night where I didn’t have to look at your ugly mug.”

He stayed up with Sam a while longer before dragging himself off the couch to get ready for bed. Showered and dressed in soft sweatpants and a ragged old AC/DC shirt, Dean flopped onto his mattress and buried his face in his pillow, falling asleep almost instantly.

That night, he dreamed of Cas.


	12. Unplanned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's heat starts early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to go up! I recently started a new job, so I don't have much time to write. Updates will drastically slow, but I'm going to try to update at least once a week, and it may be more, may be less.
> 
> Rating for the story has gone up to explicit: this chapter contains the story's first sex scene. If you're not interested in reading that, skip the third and final section; feel free to contact me to get any important details you might have missed.

The first time Dean had visited Roman industries, it had marked a bright and hopeful point for his career. His first big deal, even if all he had done was sign the papers on behalf of Sandover and ensure that no last-minute changes had been made to months of carefully worked and worded documents. The enormous building might have been intimidating, the pressure might have been enormous, but he’d been relieved and honored to be there.

Now, Dean fought to keep a neutral face as he stepped through those glass doors, walking side by side with Gordon and Pamela. No doubt Adler was already in the conference room, and Dean was willing to bet that several other Roman and Sandover employees had arrived already.

Dean’s mouth went dry as he entered the conference room and took in the sheer number of people—important people. Adler wasn’t a surprise, and Roman seemed like enough of a hands-on CEO that Dean had expected him, but P.T Sandover IV himself? Dean had never met the president of their company, only seen his face in pictures on the company website. He swallowed hard. This was so, so above his pay grade. From the expressions on Pamela’s and Gordon’s faces, neither of them had realized that this meeting was such a big deal either.

Dean spent the meeting sandwiched between Pamela and a large, friendly faced woman who introduced herself as Missouri. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what he was doing here.

The meeting began, a general swap of information and going over finances with various other joint partners. Dean resisted the urge to fidget, sweat beading up below his collar. For some reason—he couldn’t put his finger on it—he was uneasy. The tone of the meeting seemed off, somehow. Maybe it was the pinched expression on Adler’s face, or the shit-eating grin that seemed a permanent part of Roman’s expression. Dean’s leg jittered anxiously beneath the table as he listened, increasingly concerned. Something wasn’t right.

“So, what I’m getting from this is that Sandover’s having some trouble upholding its end in our partnership,” Roman said as the meeting dragged on, baring his teeth. “I mean, a net profit margin of 5.6 percent isn’t too shabby in this economy, but, well, you’re lagging well behind Roman Industries’ rate of 11.2. I have to say, Sandover, this wasn’t quite what I expected when I agreed to enter into a long-standing partnership of our two companies!”

Sandover grunted, his wrinkled brow crinkling further. “And yet, if you go through the finances, Sandover has gone above and beyond the terms outlined in this partnership.”

“Very true, very true.” Roman chuckled. “Still, I need to look out for my company first, and at this rate, I wonder if continuing this partnership is in the best interest of both of our companies. Sandover’s overall direction doesn’t seem to mesh with the forward-looking route we’ve had Roman on for years.”

“If you would like to go over the contract, I would suggest that you meet in a more private setting with Mr. Adler,” Sandover rasped, crossing his arms.

Roman’s grin widened. “Actually, Mr. Sandover, I’d be very obliged if you’d meet with me in private sometime this next month,” he said, leaning backwards in his chair.

Dean shuddered, the back of his neck prickling. No, that didn’t sound good.

The meeting seemed to drag on after that exchange, breaking briefly for lunch before resuming. When they were finally released, well after three, Dean was more than ready to just call it a day and head home. Somehow, he doubted he’d be able to get much work done back at the office anyways.

“They’re talking about a merger, aren’t they?” Pamela muttered to Dean as they left the building. “It makes sense. Roman’s got that nasty habit of acquiring their partner companies.”

Dean grimaced, a shudder running down his spine. “I hope not,” he said, scowling. “Can you imagine working for a smarmy guy like Roman?”

“Smarmier even than Adler,” Pamela agreed. “Looks like it’s headed that way, though.”

Dean shook his head, his stomach churning. “Why’d they even ask us to come?” he asked. “Not like we even had anything to contribute.”

Pamela smiled wryly. “Probably just asked all the employees with potential along. We’re the sort Roman would want to keep if he does take over the company. Everyone else, well, flip a coin if they keep their jobs or get replaced.”

He hoped she was wrong. “Yeah, well. Working for Sandover’s enough. I don’t know if I’d be able to work for Roman.”

“You might have to, kiddo,” Pamela said, slapping him on the back—wow, okay, that was dangerously close to _not_ his back. He glared at Pamela, who chuckled. “Anyways, I doubt much would change for us. You know Roman’s subsidiaries—they tend to keep doing what they’ve been doing.”

“You been reading Business Weekly?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I might make it my business to know what’s going on,” Pamela replied, grinning. “Chin up, Winchester. Whatever will be, will be.”

Comforting. Dean made his way back to the Impala, rigid with tension. There really was no point in going back to the office, not now. No way he’d be able to concentrate. A glance around the parking lot showed Gordon with his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, and even Adler has loosened his tie. It seemed as though he wasn’t the only one calling it quits for the day.

By the time Dean got home, he was more than ready to spend the day kicking back on the couch with a beer or five and some mindless TV on in the background. He shucked his coat and tie, switched out for a t-shirt and jeans, and flopped down on the couch. Sammy wouldn’t be home until at least six, but he checked his texts anyways—he’d made his brother promise to text over his break if Gabriel had a sale going on pie, after all.

No texts from Sam, but he had one from Cas. Dean frowned, pulling open the text and reading it; he took a deep breath, then another, the blood draining from his face as he stared at the message on his screen.

_-Unexpected heat. I am at work. My car won’t start, none of my coworkers can take me home, and no one is answering their phones. Please, when you get this, can you come get me?-_

0o0o0o0o0

Dean had never been so relieved for a string of green lights and no cops on the road. He sped through the residential streets at nearly twenty miles over the speed limit, driving quickly enough that he almost missed the convenience store where Cas worked. He nearly slammed into Castiel’s car as he flew into the nearest parking space; without even bothering to double-check his haphazard parking, he sprinted into the store. _Danger. Danger._

The blonde beta at the register glanced up in alarm as Dean threw open the doors. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked, staring at Dean.

Dean nodded, his eyes darting around the store. “Cas. I’m here to pick up Cas,” he responded tightly.

The beta tensed, narrowing her eyes. “What’s your name?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Dean,” he said shortly. “Listen—” he glanced at her nametag “—Nora. I can show you the text he sent me if I need to. I just really, _really_ want to get him home safe, okay?”

The beta nodded. “No, he said he’d contacted you.” She reached under the desk and handed him a key. “He’s in the back room. I’ve already had to send two employees home and ban four customers for coming on too strong when his heat hit, so if I get even a _hint_ of distress from him, so help me I’ll call the cops. Got it?”

Dean nodded and took the key from her. He made his way to the back room and fumbled open the door, crinkling his nose as a wave of heat-scent spilled from the room.

Castiel sat huddled on a collapsible chair in the corner of the room, rocking back and forth, sweat pouring down his face. He stared up at Dean with lust-blown eyes, panting. “Dean,” he said through gritted teeth, wrapping his arms around himself. “D-didn’t think you were coming.”

Dean cursed and stepped around stacks of boxes, arms outstretched. He pulled Castiel to his feet and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, steadying him. “Sorry I took so long,” he murmured, guiding Cas to the door. “Gonna get you home now, it’s okay.”

Castiel whimpered in response. Dean swallowed hard, taking a deep breath to steady himself as blood flowed to his crotch. “C’mon,” he muttered, helping Cas towards the front door.

Several customers turned to stare as they passed, sniffing appreciatively. Dean growled, glaring at them and tightening his grip on Cas. His omega. _His,_ not theirs. They had no right to look after him like that, to want him like that.

Dean strapped Cas into the passenger’s seat and sped off towards his apartment. A group of teenage alphas loitering outside the building stared a little too eagerly at Cas as they walked through the doors; Dean took a deep breath, willing himself to keep calm. They weren’t a threat unless they tried to do anything, he reminded himself. No point in tearing them limb from limb, the way his instincts screamed for him to do, unless they made a move towards his omega.

Dean had to dig through Castiel’s pockets to get the key to his apartment. The omega groaned, practically writhing against his hands as he fumbled out that tiny piece of metal. “Dean,” he panted, shifting to grind his crotch against Dean’s hip. “Dean, _please…”_

Dean swallowed hard and pushed open the door, dragging Cas over the threshold. “Sit,” he ordered, directing Cas to the couch. Water—water would help. And Castiel had been a single omega for so long, no way he didn’t have toys. Really, it would be best for Dean to get him settled and leave, no matter how much he wanted to throw him to the floor and knot him until he screamed from the pleasure.

Castiel’s hand shot out and seized Dean’s wrist as he moved towards the kitchen. “Don’t go,” he begged, squeezing Dean’s arm tightly. “Stay. Please stay.”

Dean hesitated. “Cas, I can’t,” he said slowly. “I—I don’t know if I can control myself if I stay.”

Castiel glared, his lips parting as he took in deep gulps of air. “Then don’t—control—yourself,” he said harshly. “Stay. Want it, Dean. Want _you.”_

A low, possessive growl rose in Dean’s throat. Yes, _yes,_ everything he’d ever wanted, a thousand times yes. And yet… “That’s the heat talking, Cas,” he forced out, pressing down firmly on his crotch with his free hand. Control. He _would_ control himself.

“Do not sell me short,” Castiel snapped, dragging Dean closer. “I am perfectly capable of turning down alphas I don’t want, even in heat. Please.”

Dean licked his lips, staring at Cas. “You—you’ve got toys,” he said, the words falling clumsily from his tongue. “I—not like this, Cas. Need to be sure.” _Yes like this,_ his mind snarled furiously at him. What better time to pin Cas down and knot him silly than when he was begging for it, dripping for it, _needing_ it.

Castiel slumped, his grip falling slack, a whine shuddering out from between his lips. “I need, Dean,” he whispered.

Dean nodded, taking a step back. “I—” he swallowed hard. “Take care of yourself. Toys. If you—if you still want after, we can…” He gulped. “When the next wave hits. Not this one. Okay?”

Castiel stared at him, his chest heaving. “Please,” he whispered again.

Dean shuddered and pulled Cas to his feet. “Room. Toys. Now,” he growled, pushing Cas towards his bedroom. “I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

Castiel shivered, but staggered off towards his room. Dean stared after him, his eyes drawn to the wet patch of slick on the back of Castiel’s pants. Soaked through already. Would it really be so bad to go after him, to pin him down and have his way with him? He’d already asked for it. He’d already begged Dean for it.

It took all of Dean’s self control to sit down on the couch instead of going after the omega. With a frustrated sigh, he unzipped his pants and shoved a hand down the front, gripping his burgeoning knot and squeezing hard. No way he could will himself to softness, not with the stink of heated, unsatisfied omega filling up the apartment, but like hell was he going to bring himself to release—not if Cas was serious. Not if Cas would want him around and aroused to take care of his second wave of heat.

Dean had stopped carrying around condoms in his wallet several months after he and Lisa had split up. If Cas didn’t have any lying around, they’d have to make a run to the store—assuming it hadn’t just been the heat talking. No way was Dean going to risk knocking up the other man, no matter how impatient he was. Maybe he should make a quick run to the store, just in case. But no, no—he’d promised Cas he’d be here when he’d worked through the first wave of heat.

A low moan rang through the apartment, sending shudders down Dean’s spine. He tightened his grip on his knot and threw back his head, squeezing his eyes shut and panting. Wait. He could wait. He could be patient.

However long it took.

0o0o0o0o0

Castiel emerged from his room more than an hour later, his hair mussed and sticking up in all directions, a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. The pants seemed to serve only to draw Dean’s gaze to the omega’s bare chest, slender and tan and lightly muscled. Dean shivered, his erection throbbing insistently.

Castiel glanced at him briefly before averting his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, sitting down on the couch next to Dean.

Dean blinked, and reminded himself to breathe. “Sorry?” he croaked, his throat dry.

“For pushing so hard. It was wrong of me.” Castiel clasped his hands in front of him and stared at the floor.

Dean swallowed hard. “Dude, it’s understandable. You’re in heat.”

“Yes, but that’s no excuse for pressing the issue.” Castiel slumped forward. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Dean shook his head and laid a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Hey, come on. You didn’t like, _push_ it push it. Besides, I really wanted to take you up on your offer.” He chuckled.

Castiel peeked up at Dean, frowning. “Why didn’t you?” he asked curiously.

Dean sighed. “I’m not that kind of guy. I mean, heat sex—hell yeah, I’m down for it. I just want to make sure it’s not just the heat talking when it comes up, you know?”

Castiel’s lips curved up in a tiny smile. “I was serious, you know,” he said. “I’m perfectly capable of deciding who, if anyone, I want to have sex with while in heat. I’ve been in heat around alphas before, and you’re the first one I have ever asked to knot me. I’m still me when it hits.”

Dean gulped. Yeah, okay, he had good control over himself while in rut, but an alpha _had_ to learn that control. An alpha in rut was a lot less likely to find a willing partner than an omega in heat, after all. He’d never even thought of omegas having to learn to filter out their partners like that. “So, does that mean—” he took a deep breath, his mouth suddenly dry. “Do you want me to knot you when the next wave hits?”

Castiel was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “If you’re willing. It’s not necessarily how I imagined this would go, but I trust you, Dean. And I want this.”

Dean nodded, his still-hard cock throbbing with eager agreement. “Okay,” he said roughly. “Good. You, um, you got condoms?”

Castiel flushed and shook his head. “No. I—well, I wasn’t anticipating this.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said hastily, standing up. “I’ll go pick some up. Just give me fifteen minutes, okay? Just, um, drink some water, and I’ll be back soon.”

Castiel nodded, smiling shakily. “I’ll be in my room,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll try to wait, but, um, I don’t tend to have long between—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, slamming down on the image of Castiel spread out across the bed, fucking himself on fingers and toys. “I’ll be quick.”

The nearest gas station was less than a mile down the road. Dean practically flew to the small stand with packs of condoms, grabbing several small boxes of some nameless brand of alpha-XL. He took a quick second to ponder over their proximity to the omega condoms—he’d never understood the need for those—before speeding over to the register and slamming down the boxes. From the knowing smirk the cashier offered him, he probably smelled like Cas. Dean rolled his eyes and paid for his purchase with shaking hands, before running back out to the car and speeding back to the apartment.

Castiel was nowhere to be seen when he got back, but from the scent in the air, his second wave of heat had already hit. Wow—he hadn’t been kidding about his short recovery time. Dean clutched the boxes to his chest and jogged into the room, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Castiel sat on the bed, squirming slightly, his hands fisted in his sweatpants. “You get them?” he asked tightly, breathing hard.

“Got ‘em,” Dean said, holding up one of the boxes. He swallowed hard and stripped off his shirt, his breath stuttering as Castiel’s eyes roved appreciatively over his chest. “Like what you see?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, panting. “I’d like to see _more,”_ he growled, standing up and crossing the room, seizing Dean by the waistband of his jeans and tugging him close. Dean groaned as his erection pressed against Castiel’s through too-many layers. “Off,” he demanded, palming Dean’s crotch.

Dean gasped, his hands flying out to seize Castiel around the waist. “You first,” he rumbled, half-throwing the omega to the bed and pinning him down. “Let me see.”

Castiel panted, sliding his sweat pants down his hips, tilting his head back to bare his throat. Dean growled approvingly, taking a long moment to stare at Castiel’s naked form. His cock, rock-hard and leaking, pressed flat against his belly, surrounded by a neatly groomed patch of pubic hair. Dean swallowed hard and reached between Castiel’s legs to palm his balls, moving them gently to better expose the omega’s tight, leaking hole. Castiel gasped, his legs falling open, offering Dean an even better view of that tiny, furled opening, wet and clenching at the open air.

“Dean,” Castiel panted through gritted teeth. _“Please.”_

“Just enjoying the view,” Dean murmured, blood coursing through his veins. He needed to be inside Cas _now,_ before he completely snapped. He shuddered, fumbling his pants open with one hand and pushing them down around his ankles, allowing his cock to spring free.

The brief moment it took to pull out a condom and rip open the packaging seemed like an eternity. Dean cursed as he rolled the latex barrier over his cock, wincing as the material clenched snugly around his growing knot. “Roll over,” he demanded, climbing up onto the bed. Any other time, he’d have taken the time to take Cas apart slowly, to get to know his body, his likes and wants and tells, but he doubted he could wait that long. From the way Cas groaned, from the desperate, jerky manner of his motions, he doubted that Cas could wait that long either.

Dean gripped Castiel’s hips, holding him steadily on his hands and knees. “Ready, angel?” he asked, panting, pressing the head of his cock lightly against Castiel’s hole.

“If you don’t start fucking me _now,_ Dean, I—” Castiel’s words unraveled into a loud, keening cry as Dean pushed forward, sinking into Castiel’s body with a single fluid motion. Flesh gave way easily before him, helped along by Castiel’s own natural slick. “God, Dean!”

Dean moaned in response, taking a moment to adjust to the tight heat surrounding his cock. “God, you feel so good,” he groaned, rolling his hips. Beneath him, Castiel let out a low, breathy cry, his hole clenching hard around Dean’s erection. Dean moaned, drawing back minutely and slamming forward, digging his fingers into Castiel’s hips. Slowly speeding up, he thrust back and forth, back and forth, wordless moans spilling from his lips as the pressure built in his gut, intense and spiraling, growing and growing into a writhing knot of pure desperation.

The slap of skin against skin, punctuated by Castiel’s needy cries, formed the most perfect music Dean had ever heard, better than rock and roll, better than the soundtrack accompanying all the sex he’d ever had. Castiel screamed, his voice shaking, ecstatic, as Dean drew out nearly to the tip and thrust forward, his cock roughly pulsing against Castiel’s sweet spot. “M-more,” Castiel demanded, gravelly voice shaking. “More, Dean, need you, need more _please_ need more—”

Dean snarled, digging his fingertips into Castiel’s hips, hard enough to bruise. He braced himself against the omega’s lithe body and shoved in deep, to the hilt, gyrating his hips to press his steadily growing knot against Castiel’s prostate. “C’mon, Cas,” he panted, dragging a hand over Castiel’s lower abdomen and wrapping his fist around the omega’s rock-hard, pulsing cock. “C’mon, let go, come on.” He ran his thumb over the head of Castiel’s erection, his finger sliding easily through the steady stream of precome.

Castiel threw his head back, moaning loudly. His cock twitched hard in Dean’s hand; his hips spasmed, his hole clenching around Dean, as he came, spilling over Dean’s hand and the bed. Dean groaned, his knot pulsing hard as spurt after spurt of come shot from his cock, filling the condom with sticky heat.

With a sigh, Dean slumped forward onto Castiel’s back, pressing him into the sheets. Gently, he rolled the omega onto his side and pressed against his back, nuzzling his neck. “Good?” he asked thickly, the words barely audible through the haze of pleasure that consumed his entire being.

Castiel sighed, nodding slowly. “So full,” he murmured, wriggling his hips against Dean’s crotch. Dean inhaled sharply as the unexpected stimulation wrung another spurt of come from him. “So different from toys.”

Dean smiled, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s chest. “And that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes.” Castiel sighed, falling lax against Dean. “’M tired.”

Dean nodded and gently placed a kiss to the juncture of Castiel’s neck and jaw. “Sleep,” he said tiredly, closing his own eyes. “Think we both need it. Wake me when the next wave hits, ‘kay?”

Castiel nodded an acquiescence. Sated, Dean squeezed Castiel gently and allowed his mind to wander, finally drifting off into a light sleep, warm and comfortable, his omega in his arms.


	13. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean continues to take care of Cas during his heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um. Can we all agree to pretend it hasn't been more than 3 years since the last update?
> 
> ...Okay, feel free to kick my ass for going more than three years without updating. Also, please be as harsh as you feel prudent regarding my writing with this chapter - for the past several years, my writing has been limited to technical reports, and I'm not sure if my fiction-writing abilities are still up to snuff.
> 
> Edit: I, the author, am a bit of a human disaster when it comes to remembering to have characters actually put condoms on. The chapter has been edited after it was pointed out that Dean originally didn't put a condom on in the last sex scene.

Castiel woke him when the next wave of heat hit; this time, he straddled Dean and rode him hard, grinding to completion on Dean’s knot and collapsing, sated, against Dean’s chest. Dean held the omega gently as he wound down, running his hands gently over the man’s back and nuzzling gently at his neck. From the contented noises he made, Cas didn’t mind the admittedly sappy contact.

Too soon, Dean’s knot deflated and Castiel peeled himself off of Dean, come and slick trickling from his hole as Dean’s cock slipped out. “We should probably eat and hydrate,” Cas said, his face flushing.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed automatically, still dazed. It wasn’t so much that he’d never been ridden before, but he’d never fully appreciated the sight of a partner on top of him, finding pleasure in his mostly supine body. With Cas above him, though, he could appreciate his red cheeks and sparkling blue eyes in a way he hadn’t thought possible, and there was something almost freeing about letting his partner set the pace.

Damn. Dean wasn’t sure if he’d ever had an orgasm quite so satisfying, not even when he’d been in rut with Lisa.

Still, he managed to sit up and stagger to his feet. “I’ll make us some food,” he said. Castiel opened his mouth as if to protest, and Dean held up a hand. “Dude, I’ve tried making food while in rut, and it always ends up ruined and gross,” he said. “I’m guessing it’s the same when you make food while in heat.”

Sheepishly, Castiel ducked his head. “I’ve got frozen dinners to eat while in heat,” he muttered.

Aw, hell no. “Okay, and now you’ve got me in your house, completely willing to cook for you,” Dean said. “Sit down. I’ve gotta call work, anyways – I’ll do that while I’m cooking.”

Cas cocked his head. “Why do you have to call work?” he asked.

Wasn’t it obvious? “Cas, you’re in heat,” Dean said reasonably. “I’m taking the next few days off. Unless –” Unless Cas didn’t want him to stay the whole time. The first day was usually the worst – could be that Cas would boot him out at the end of the night. Something in Dean’s chest went tight at the idea.

Castiel frowned, his eyebrows knitting together slightly. “Dean, I know how important your career is to you,” he said quietly. “I can manage while you’re at work – I just, I’ll try to get some sleep and keep hydrated while you’re out. You don’t have to take time off to take care of me.”

Something primal growled in Dean’s chest at Castiel’s words. How could his omega think that he was anything other than Dean’s top priority? Distantly, he knew that his reaction was in part due to the fact that he had just bred this omega in heat (biology hardly made a distinction for condoms, he knew that) but even so, the words rubbed him wrong. “We’re courting, aren’t we?” Dean demanded. “That makes you important. That makes you my _priority._ So if my boss gets a little butthurt about a personal situation coming up, that’s his problem, isn’t it?”

Castiel was silent for a long moment, and a part of Dean wondered if he was coming on too strong. Then Cas sagged, shaking his head. “As long as you mean it,” he said quietly.

“I mean it,” Dean said, almost surprised at how vehemently he meant his words. He rummaged through cupboards until he found a glass, filled it with water, then handed it to Castiel. “How long do your heats usually last?” he asked.

Cas took a sip of water before responding. “Three or four days,” he said.

Dean nodded and pulled out his phone, scrolling to Adler’s personal number. He pulled open the refrigerator door before dialing, taking in the stark contents as the phone rang in his ear. There was an unopened jar of pasta sauce – he could work with that.

 _“Dean!”_ Dean nearly jumped as Adler’s voice boomed in his ear. He closed the fridge door, wincing, and set out to look for pasta and a pot. _“What brings you to call me on a Monday night?”_

“Mr. Adler,” Dean said, pulling a mid-sized pot out from beneath Castiel’s tiny oven. “I need the rest of the week off,” he said, filling the pot with water as he spoke, then setting it down on the range coils and turning the heat to high.

 _“I’m sorry – what’s that?”_ Adler demanded, his voice suddenly frosty.

Dean grimaced, clenching his fingers tightly as he held the phone to his ear. “I’ve been courting an omega for a while,” he said flatly. Okay, so that was a bit of a lie, he and Cas hadn’t been courting that long, but even so, there were workplace protections around relationships for a damn reason. “He just went into heat unexpectedly. I need the time off.”

Adler was dangerously silent for several minutes. In that time, Dean located a box of bargain brand macaroni elbows – that would work. _“Dean, we need you in the office,”_ Adler said flatly.

Dean shrugged – he probably should care more, but after that meeting with Roman, and knowing that Cas needed him, somehow, he couldn’t care about work. “I’ll telework,” he said. “I’m fine with that. I can set up my personal computer to receive work emails. But my omega needs me.” He paused, and took the opportunity of silence to pour the pasta into the pot of water, even though it wasn’t boiling yet. “If needs be, I’ll pop in to HR tomorrow morning to get a waiver excusing me from work to help my partner in heat.”

Adler took a deep breath. _“That won’t be necessary,”_ he said, his voice flat. _“Fine. You have the week off, as long as you’re willing to telework. Make sure you check your email – when you’re not too busy with your whore.”_

The air left Dean as though he’d been punched in the chest. “Careful, Adler,” he growled. “You’re courting a sexual harassment charge, talking like that.”

 _“And you’re courting the loss of_ any _sort of promotion you could expect, taking off like this,”_ Adler snapped. Somehow, Dean couldn’t bring it in himself to care.

“I will see you in the office next week,” he snapped, and was met with nothing on the other line. Adler had hung up on him. Whatever.

The pasta still had several minutes to go. Dean poured a healthy number of meatballs into a bowl and set them to heating in the microwave, then began to viciously tear at the lettuce in the fridge to make a salad. By the time he came out to Castiel, several minutes later, he was bearing two plates of salad and pasta, topped with sauce from a can and meatballs heated in the microwave.

It was hardly gourmet fare, but Cas tore into it like a man starving, smearing sauce and dressing all over his face. That made sense. Dean was always abnormally hungry during a rut – no surprise that heat would make someone ravenous.

To his surprise, Cas seized Dean’s plate upon finishing and brought them both to the sink. “The next wave hasn’t hit,” he called when Dean moved to stand. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Dean raised his hands and sat back on the couch. He should feel good about this, he thought. It should feel right, that the omega felt compelled to do the dishes.

It didn’t feel right. It felt like he was taking advantage, at best. Like he needed to herd his omega out of his kitchen, take over the dishes, care for his omega by letting him let loose of all the cares in the world.

The feeling was… strange, at best. Everything Dean had grown up with indicated that Castiel should feel at home in the kitchen, washing dishes. It fit with tradition, to have Castiel take care of the cleaning. He wasn’t sure why it felt so off, why he itched and thrummed with inaction as the omega took care of the dishes.

Castiel exited the kitchen after only a few minutes, his eyes bright and color rising in his cheeks. He held a glass of water in each hand, and set one before Dean. Right – they did need to hydrate. Dean drowned his water without taking his eyes off Cas, fixing his gaze on the omega’s throat as he tilted his head back, swallowing rapidly and downing the water in one go.

Cas set his empty glass down on the coffee table, his eyes locking with Dean’s. “The next wave’s going to hit soon,” he said, sounding slightly hesitant. “Did you get the time off?”

Dean nodded, and finished his water with an undignified gulp. “I have the rest of the week,” he said hastily. “Do you want to –”

Castiel leaned forward and seized Dean’s hands, dragging him to his feet. “My room,” Cas said, his voice heated. Dean allowed the omega to pull him towards the bedroom, stumbling forward eagerly. “God, Dean, what you make me do – I never knew it could be like this, never.”

Dean snarled playfully as Cas pulled him into the room, twisting out of his grip and grabbing his shoulders, shoving him down onto the bed. “Mine,” he snarled, staring at the omega.

Castiel’s face twitched, and Dean drew back slightly. “Is – is this okay?” he asked, suddenly uncertain.

Castiel relaxed, going pliant beneath him. “This is so, so okay,” he breathed, reaching up and grabbing at Dean’s biceps. “Your omega, yours, just…”

Dean nodded before pressing Castiel into the mattress. “I won’t hurt you,” he assured, even as desire thrummed through his veins, as his dick screamed to plunge into the omega’s tight, willing heat. “You say the word, this stops. But I think you want me to make you mine.”

Castiel panted, nodding fervently. “Yeah,” he managed. “Claim me, make me yours, _Dean,_ make me–”

Dean growled, reaching blindly for the box of condoms on the bedside table and tearing open one of the packets. He rolled the condom over his cock with one hand, not bothering to take his eyes off Castiel's face and lined his erection up with Castiel’s clenching, ready hole. He thrust forward, groaning as Castiel cried out with ecstasy, his hands clenching on Dean’s shoulders, scrabbling desperately for a steady grip. “Dean,” Castiel managed, panting. “Dean, oh, Dean, please move, please!”

Far be it from Dean to oblige. He drew out and then plunged back in with a triumphant cry, rocking in and out, in and out.

“Dean, oh, Dean,” Cas gasped, his voice garbled with pleasure. That, Dean realized, was new. He’d had sex, enthusiastic sex, with numerous people – but never had anyone grabbed at him when he got into the swing of things. But here was Cas, clutching at him, hands mostly ghosting over his arms, not grabbing, just touching. “Dean, oh Dean, ah-aaaah!”

Castiel clenched around his half-formed knot, screaming as he came. Dean cursed as he shoved forward just in time for Cas to lock down around him, his limbs trembling and his body shaking, the look in his eyes blank and empty.

Terrifyingly blank and empty. Dean was suddenly too aware of his knot in Castiel’s body, of Cas’s blank eyes.

“Cas?” he called, fighting down the fear, the terror. The thought that maybe he went too hard, that maybe he crossed a boundary, that shit, maybe he should have stopped, should have checked in more.

Then Cas twitched, looked at Dean and smiled. “That… that was good,” he slurred. He twitched, clenching around Dean’s knot, gasping at the sensation.

Dean barely caught himself before collapsing onto his omega. “Shit, Cas, for a second I thought I’d…” His throat closed up. That brief moment where Cas seemed blank was honestly one of the most terrifying things he’d ever experienced.

Cas chuckled, his hands wrapping lightly around Dean’s wrists. “Sorry,” he said, offering a shaky smile. “I…” He flushed, his grip on Dean’s wrists tightening. “I, uh, I came so hard I almost blacked out. Guess I zoned out for a minute.”

Something like relief expanded in Dean’s chest, and he gathered his omega in his arms, careful to not jostle the knot that connected them. “Can you let me know next time, before you black out?” he asked, his voice shaking oddly.

Warm hands closed over his forearms, holding him. “Of course, Dean,” Castiel said seriously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distress you.” Distantly, Dean felt his omega clench around his knot, but it was nothing compared to Castiel reaching for his shoulders, gripping him with strong fingers and pulling him down until they laid chest-to-chest. “This is what I want,” Castiel murmured as Dean relaxed against him.

And hell, Dean realized as he relaxed into Castiel’s body heat, despite having just knotted the omega, this closeness is what he wanted too.


	14. Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas get a bit domestic at the tail end of his heat.

Castiel’s heat finally subsided after three long days, bursts of passion hemmed in by short periods in which they ate, hydrated, and caught what sleep they could – which wasn’t enough, in Dean’s opinion, especially since he also had to make time to telework. He was worn out and basically useless by the end of the second day, to the point where Cas flatly refused to let Dean handle the food and water situation.

Damn, no wonder heats and ruts tended to synch up in mated pairs. Dean wouldn’t have trouble maintaining his stamina if his hormones were also in a heightened state.

To that end, it was somewhat of a relief to wake Friday morning and find a more subdued, post-heat scent clinging to Castiel’s skin. The omega lay sprawled, taking up well over half the bed, with one arm dangling off the mattress and one leg possessively slung over both of Dean’s. Dean couldn’t help but smile at that, something fond squeezing his chest. Each night that Dean had stayed, they’d gone to sleep cuddling, and every morning, Dean had woken to find Cas sprawled in some sort of endearingly awkward position.

Cas grumbled something unintelligible and shifted, turning his face towards Dean. He wrinkled his nose without opening his eyes. “I can smell your breath from here,” he grumbled, cracking his eyes open to glare at Dean.

Another thing that Dean had picked up on – Cas was anything but a morning person. “Mornin’ to you, too,” he said in reply.

“I mean it,” Cas groaned, swatting irritably at Dean’s arm. “Go brush your teeth before I _die_ from the smell.”

Dean chuckled and climbed over Cas to exit the bed. Cas grumbled in response. “I’m gonna shower, too,” Dean said, glancing down at Cas, who glared back in response. “So unless you’re joining me, it might be a while before you can brush your teeth yourself.”

“Ugh,” Cas groaned, shaking his head. He squinted at Dean, then pushed himself to a sitting position and ran his hand through already mussed hair. “We’re not having shower sex,” he warned as he staggered to his feet.

 _“God,_ no,” Dean agreed. Shower sex was awkward at the best of times, and would be damn near torturous after three days of marathon sex. “No offence, Cas, but I think sex is pretty much off the table for today,” he said.

Cas nodded  and brushed past Dean, making his way towards the bathroom. “Yeah, and to think, you’re not the one who can’t sit right,” he muttered.

As it turned out, cramming two grown men into Castiel’s tiny shower just wasn’t feasible. Dean brushed his teeth and shaved with Castiel’s razor while Cas took the first shower; he tried to ignore the curl of domestic contentment in his chest whenever he caught a glimpse of his toothbrush next to Castiel’s. It settled something raw and primal in him, something that desired assurance that he’d be back, he’d see Cas again, have him again. It wasn’t quite as settling as a mating bite on the omega’s neck would be, but –

Wait, where the hell did _that_ thought come from. Dean forced that train of thought to a screeching halt, because no, _hell_ no, it was way too early in this thing to even think about, about goddamn _mating bites_! Courtship was one thing, dirty talk about claiming during sex was one thing, but this thing was – it was too damn new for Dean even to be – even with Lisa, he hadn’t even had the _idea_ that –

“Dean?” Dean nearly leapt out of his skin as he whirled towards the source of the sound. Cas stood right before him, almost too close in the confines of the tiny bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist as water trickled down his toned chest. Cas stared at Dean for a moment, searching his face, before jerking his head at the shower. “You should shower. You still smell like sex.”

Heat rose in Dean’s cheeks, and he averted his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. He edged past Cas, careful not to touch him, and stepped under the still running spray.

Why the hell had his mind immediately gone to a damn mating bite? It wasn’t that they were particularly uncommon, though they’d fallen out of fashion in the past few decades, especially amongst the more progressive crowds. Which meant that there was probably no way in hell that Cas would accept one from Dean, even if Dean wanted to give him one.

Which he _didn’t,_ Dean reminded himself. Mating bites were serious, on par with marriage and legal mating, and he damn well knew he wasn’t ready to marry Cas. It went beyond the distinction between the legal and the primal, what was written into law versus what was coded into instinct.

Fine, he told himself, soaping up his hair with Castiel’s bargain brand shampoo. Cas drew him in in a way that appealed to his nature as an alpha, even more so than any other omega Dean had ever met – he’d known that from the start. So what, then, his alpha instincts wanted to leap ahead on a damn impulse and tie him to Cas for life, never mind that they hadn’t known each other for terribly long, or that they’d only been courting for a fraction of that time. He was more than just instincts, so any thoughts he had about _actually_ claiming Cas with a bite – they were just unwanted thoughts. He didn’t have to act on them.

Feeling more relieved with that conclusion than he’d like to admit, Dean finished rinsing the suds out of his hair and scrubbed his body quickly with Castiel’s loofah and cheap soap. Ah, yes, he’d nearly forgotten how it felt to be clean, after three days of perfunctorily wiping off sweat and slick and spit. Felt good. Cas was nowhere to be seen when he exited the shower, but a pair of sweatpants and a T‑shirt had been set on the closed toilet lead. Dean dressed quickly, his lips twitching slightly as his torso and thighs strained slightly at the just-too-tight fabric. He and Cas were pretty well matched in height, and Cas was, to be fair, built more like a beta than a stereotypical omega, but there was just enough difference to make Castiel’s clothes too small for Dean.

Ah, well. It was better than putting on the clothes he’d been wearing when he first came over more than three days ago, which were, doubtless, pretty rank.

He made his way to the combined living room and kitchen, a fond smile crossing his face at the sight of Cas standing in front of the stove, staring intensely at the burners. “Don’t distract me,” Cas said without looking up. “I need to show the bacon who’s boss.”

Dean did chuckle at that, coming up behind Cas and resting his chin on the omega’s shoulder. “Bacon and pancakes,” he said approvingly as he looked down at the spread.

“Yes,” Cas said, prodding distrustfully at the still-raw bacon slowly cooking in the skillet. “I’ve found that unless I maintain eye contact, food has a way of turning to charcoal.”

Dean snorted. “Well, now I’m not sure I trust you with breakfast,” he said, poking Cas lightly in the ribs. “Let me? I’ve been a master of bacon and pancakes since I was, oh, nine or so.”

Cas moved aside readily, tilting his head as Dean took his place before the stove. “You know –” He stopped suddenly, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“What?” Dean asked, flipping the pancake currently in the skillet – a bit charred, but that was okay – and then turning his attention back to the bacon.

Cas shifted uncomfortably. “A part of me is still surprised that you _cook,”_ he admitted. “That you’re good at it, and that you want to take over cooking, even when I’m willing to do it. It…” He shook his head. “I kind of regret some of the assumptions I made about you the first couple weeks I knew you.”

The reminder of Castiel’s first impression of him stung a little, but Dean shrugged it off with a tight smile. “We both made some assumptions,” he said, flipping the pancake again to check it, then whisking it off to the plate of finished pancakes, already stacked four-high with slightly-blackened attempts. No worries – there was plenty of batter to make sure the majority of them were _good._ Dean poured another circle of batter into the skillet. “Trust me, the only correct assumption I made about you was that you’re hot,” he added.

Cas snorted. “Believe me, I was really, really upset that I thought you were hot,” he said ruefully. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d had alphas I wanted to prove myself to before, but I never…” He trailed off, and cleared his throat.

Dean shrugged and used the tongs on the counter to flip the bacon strips, inhaling the smell of sizzling meat. “To be honest, I was surprised to hear you thought I was hot. I thought you hated my guts, for the longest time,” he said. “Then your brother and Charlie kept telling me you liked me, and I dunno, I guess that made me more inclined to see things your way.”

Cas shrugged. “I mean, they weren’t wrong, for once,” he said, averting his gaze. He cleared his throat loudly. “Gabriel and Charlie mean well, but they tend to read romance into rivalry. Like when I first met Meg.”

Dean nearly choked on his own spit, dropping the spatula. He grabbed it hastily and flipped the pancake, hoping that he could recover some degree of nonchalance. “You…you and Meg?” he asked once he’d managed to steady his hands and keep from flinging the pancake across the room.

Cas snorted, shaking his head. “Hell, no,” he said, smiling. “Meg is… Well, let’s just say that she was disappointed that Charlie was both taken and not into Alphas. She likes her omegas to be ladies,” he said, grinning. “And me, well, she did underestimate me for being an omega at first, but she learned pretty quickly. It didn’t take long for people to quit trying to set us up.”

Dean nodded, staring at the stove. “So, none of the ‘caveman alphas’ Gabe said you’re into –”

Cas groaned loudly. “Gabriel needs to get a life of his own,” he complained. “But no. No. For most of my life, I never dated, never had a crush, never really wanted anything like that.” He shook his head. “Before I met my boarding school friends, I never came across the idea that I could do anything other than keep house for an alpha and bear children, and even as a child, I felt stifled – at best – by that concept.” Castiel smiled slightly. “As soon as a realized that I could go to college and have a career even as an omega, that was my focus. I never even considered relationships before…” He trailed off. “Well, let’s just say that _liking_ you was a pretty new experience, and all things considered, it took me a while to wrap my head around it.”

Dean swallowed hard. He wanted to say something, but the atmosphere was all wrong for pithy comments. “So,” he said.

Castiel nodded. “So,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off Dean.

There was still some pancake batter left in the blender, but Dean turned off the stove. He divvied up the bacon and completed pancakes between two plates, taking the charred pancakes for himself and seizing two forks at random from the cutlery drawer. Cas eyed him, but did not fight as Dean set the plates down.

The silence between them was awkward. Dean stared determinedly at his pancakes and bacon, cutting them to bite-sized pieces mechanically, eating because he knew it was expected. Halfway through his plate, he cleared his throat. “So, I’m the first alpha you liked,” he said, staring down at his plate.

Cas shrugged, tensing suddenly. “I mean, you’re the first person in general I ever wanted to date, or pass a heat with,” he said carefully. “Alpha or otherwise. But technically, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It was strange, the way something unexplored and primal settled in Dean’s chest, at that. “I guess I should feel flattered,” he said, glancing back at Cas.

The omega snorted inelegantly and shook his head. “You should,” he said. He stared at the table, not bothering to meet Dean’s eyes. “So, what now?” he asked. “You’ve got the rest of today on heat leave, and you’ve got the whole weekend free, since my heat ended. Got any plans?”

Had Dean not been staring at Castiel, he might have missed the way the omega’s eyes flicked towards him every few seconds. Something in Dean settled at Castiel’s attention, and he grinned, stepping in front of the omega and settling down on the floor in front of him. “Well, when do you have to go back to work?” he asked.

Castiel stared down at his lap, shrugging uncomfortably. “Monday afternoon,” he said.

 

Dean grinned. “So, if you don’t mind swinging by my place, we can watch the rest of Star Wars,” he said. “I have to go to work on Monday, but you can sleep on my couch, if you want.” Outside of heat, he doubted Castiel would agree to share his bed.

Cas blinked, and then a smile crept across his face. “I guess that’s all right, Dean,” he said, grinning. “I guess that’s right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, tell me if I have made any mistakes?
> 
> Also, please let me know if there are any awkward gaps - my writing computer has decided to start shutting down at random on me, and I have been losing text pretty regularly when it does that. I think I have fixed all the holes in this story, but if I missed anything, let me know!


End file.
